


Binary

by Sorsa



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Altair is a sportshero, Alternate Universe - Future, Canon-Typical Violence, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Hate to Love, M/M, Malik has a bionic arm, Romance, Undercover Missions, Vegetarians & Vegans, realistic future
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-08-30 20:53:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 61,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8548738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sorsa/pseuds/Sorsa
Summary: In the year 2143 Europe is united under one flag but not everything is as peaceful as it seems on the surface. Assassins fight their hardest to keep the world at peace while remaining hidden themselves. The Templars strive for the total control of the population and the Assassins fight against them in their own ways, while at the same time trying to keep rebellious outbursts at bay all around the country.
In the midst of it all are Malik and Altaïr who the brotherhood has assigned to each other's partners without their consent. Altaïr is a famous sportshero while Malik is made to pretend to be his loving partner but Malik would rather have nothing to do with Altaïr if he could choose. Malik would rather concentrate on his own career as an assassin and a musician rather than clinging to Altaïr.
And underneath all of this is the Brotherhood which isn't nearly as united as everyone thought it was.





	1. Vienna

**Author's Note:**

> So this a new epically long fic I'm starting here. I have no idea how many chapters it's going to be but it's probably going to be at least as long as HB is, if not even longer. This is an idea I've been playing with for a while now and DarthTofu has contributed a lot into it as well since I've bounced off nearly all of my ideas to her long before this fic even had a proper story to go with.
> 
> Many thank yous to my lovely readers!
> 
> Beta-read by DarthTofu

A wise man had once said that sports competitions are as close to warring as it is possible to get without actually warring. Malik could attest to this mentality as he watched the athletes compete against each other and the crowd cheering on their own favourites. They all were under the same flag and yet it was still evident that they weren’t nearly as united as the people sitting in the parliament wanted to believe.

 

He fidgeted slightly on the rather uncomfortable chair as the crowd around himself burst into cheers which travelled in tremors through the frameworks underneath the bleachers. This part of the audience consisted of people identifying themselves as Europeans and at the other side of the stadium were French and Germans, and the left of the Europeans were the Northerners. People always flocked to surround themselves with their kin whilst separating themselves from the people they considered other.

 

The truth about United Europe was that it was a vast network of thinly kept together peace where the extremities were always about to cut themselves loose from the main body. There was always a new resistance leader somewhere in the North or in the South trying to rally up people to join their private armies, and to inflict suffering upon the rest of the people.

 

The government blacklist was a long one, consisting of all kinds of people ranging from convicted criminals to people with body enhancements as they were called. It was the reason why Malik despite his athleticism in his younger years was sitting in the audience playing the good partner to Altaïr instead of partaking himself.

 

He turned over his left hand and squeezed the gloved hand tightly shut. He never stopped being bitter about the loss of his arm and his brother. The knowledge that the car had made the decision based on algorithms programmed based on utilitarian philosophy didn’t warm him in the least bit in the aftermath of finding himself all alone at the age when everything seemed so difficult anyway.

 

He was snapped out of his musings as the crowd broke into a loud standing applause. He took a quick look as to what was going on in the field and noticed Altaïr having won yet another one of the ten events in decathlon. Altaïr had thrown the javelin as far away as dedicated javelin throwers and the crowd knew there was nobody among the competitors who could challenge that.

 

The man himself had his mug zoomed in on one of the screens hanging from wires over the stadium. Altaïr looked smug and winked directly on camera for some flirting with the audience. Malik had to resist the urge to just scowl murderously because he was acutely aware the camera would turn to him any minute now.

 

And sure enough Altaïr then made his way to where he sat very near the fence separating the audience from the outer lane of the track. It was all part of their act even if both of them would be rather doing something completely different than playing lovers on live broadcast.

 

Altaïr leant over the fence and Malik got up. He gave a quick peck on Altaïr’s forehead while plastering on his best facade of docile gentleness.

 

Altaïr smelled of sweat and testosterone despite all the deodorant the man had apparently tried to bathe himself in. Malik smiled a sweet smile at Altaïr which was answered by Altaïr squeezing him for a while so hard his breath almost escaped him.

 

Then he was let go and he returned to his seat feeling slightly disgusted at himself but he didn’t let it show. He wasn’t necessarily disgusted at holding Altaïr, even if the said man was a complete jerk and Malik would rather date a clam if he had a choice, but that he was to assume the role of a meek gentle boyfriend to a sports hero.

 

He wasn’t submissive or gentle by nature. Half of the time he felt like a volcano about to erupt any minute, and that was when he wasn’t about to die from irrational anxiousness taking him over. But he wasn’t what he was asked to be and yet he swallowed his pride and kept the facade on.

 

He had to for the collective good of the Brotherhood. After Altaïr had become something of a celebrity he would be surrounded by women and men alike trying to get into his pants, making his actual job virtually impossible. Malik was there to throw those people off Altaïr’s back so they could get to assassinating their targets without an incident.

 

It also ensured even more opportunities for Malik to travel around the continent without attention being drawn to him since he was only accompanying his partner which was only natural. But despite it being the year 2143, society still clung to its old roles when it came to relationships. He had read in the history books that same sex relations were still somewhat a taboo only a hundred years back but it did nothing to relieve the anxiousness he felt for not being able to express himself as he wanted.

 

Malik turned his eyes on the track where the 1500m race was about to start. Altaïr was already the winner based on the other nine events which he had all won during the two days the games had been on. But Malik knew he would go on to win the last one as well and it grated on his nerves.

 

The competitors lined on the track and the crowd silenced in an anticipation. The starter pistol went off and the crowd erupted simultaneously as the competitors dashed off. Altaïr took the lead, running even in front of the rabbit. The idiot.

 

The track was 400m long which meant they would be doing almost four complete laps around it and in a typical arrogant fashion Altaïr was going full on right from the beginning. Though on some level Malik could understand the sentiment since Altaïr had nothing to lose but everything to gain from pulling off a crazy stunt like this.

 

To make matters even worse he was quite sure Altaïr would succeed in his plan too, and it stung. What he would give for Altaïr to fail even once?

 

He got his wish granted abruptly as Altaïr tumbled after two laps. Malik jumped up in excitement and had to force himself to look worried instead of gloating over Altaïr’s misfortune. Somebody had stepped on Altaïr’s heels. Such things happen frequently.

 

Altaïr was quickly on his feet but of course behind everyone else. Malik followed with his eyes nailed on Altaïr as Altaïr started making up the distance between himself and the man in the lead. There was no way of him ever reaching the goal as the winner of this event but he was obviously trying.

 

Malik bit his lip and leaned heavily on the fence as he followed Altaïr making up the distance. He kept repeating the mantra ‘Please, do not win this,’ over and over in his head, hoping it would make a difference in the results.

 

The final straight approached and Altaïr was somewhere in the middle of the group of runners. Malik calculated quickly the chances of Altaïr reaching the goal the first and they were slim. He was so ready to silently celebrate Altaïr’s misfortune which he thought the man deserved.

 

But the unthinkable happened and as the audience roared Altaïr practically flew past the others. Malik looked on stunned and disappointed as Altaïr reached the goal before everyone else. Somebody threw Europe’s flag to the track from the audience which the panting and yet smug-looking Altaïr picked up, and draped around himself.

 

Malik leant on his arms for a while to hide his disappointment from the world as Altaïr paraded the blue flag with the yellow stars on it. Altaïr was the epitome of United Europe. The Son of None who yet had roots all over the Europe, who was a superhuman sports hero effortlessly and moreover cleanly.

 

Malik despised Altaïr for his success and he despised himself for not being able to reach the same success despite everything he tried.

 

“You are lucky to have such a man,” somebody said and patted him in the back.

 

Malik straightened himself to face the person complimenting Altaïr and forced himself to smile despite wanting to strangle the speaker.

 

“Yes, I know,” he answered and wished the girl, who looked dreamily on the screen which followed Altaïr’s every movement around, would just vanish.

 

One screen showed the people who Altaïr had defeated. They sat exhausted on the track, looking utterly crushed and Malik could relate to them on so many levels.

 

But he just kept smiling and presenting to the world what a good little boyfriend he was despite wanting to puke. He had to remind he wasn’t doing any of this for himself and that world peace depended on not being found out.

 

“Could I possibly meet him?” The girl asked him suddenly and Malik categorised her immediately as one of the people who wanted to just bang Altaïr.

 

“No I don’t think so. I want him to myself this evening if you understand my meaning,” Malik replied and hoped the girl would just bugger off.

 

“Oh!” the girl went red from her face and quickly disappeared from the sight. Malik sighed in relief as he had managed to fend off one more too eager fan.

 

The national anthem of United Europe started blaring from the speakers all around the arena and the people got up from their seats. Malik watched with disinterest as Altaïr was given the medal for winning first place. All the participants had been Europeans so playing the anthem was just to enforce the idea of unity among the nations.

 

The United Europe had beaten all the other nations without having shot even one bullet and forced all the different sects to sing its national anthem as a show of respect. Sports were a true battlefield.

 

Malik retreated and headed to the changing rooms where he could try and save Altaïr from the hungry wolves that called themselves the press. Social media was already most likely filled up with the story of how Altaïr had single handedly taken the win and his fanpages probably had more than a few sexy shots of off him which his fans could jerk off to in their homes.

 

Malik leaned against a concrete wall which felt cool against his back. It was littered with age old graffiti left there by some less than intelligent people judging from the literary genius that was “Your mom is a cunt”, “Jean was here” and even “Emma <3 Mark” among other things. It also smelled rather bad and Malik cringed his nose at the unmistakable odour of urine and something undefinable which seemed to cloud the air.

 

The double door to leading outside to the arena opened and revealed Altaïr who was trailed by dozens of reporters who were all eager to get something scandalous out of him. The camera flashes blinded him and he had to shield his eyes to see anything as white spots appeared in his vision from the constant exposure to the bright lights.

 

Altaïr turned around to face the horde of interviewers. His bag containing his spare clothes was hanging from his shoulder, looking about to fall off any moment.

 

As Altaïr started answering the countless questions he was barraged with Malik stepped in. They couldn’t waste all their evening answering the never-ending litany of inane questions if they wanted to get any rest before tomorrow.

 

There was also Altaïr’s public image to be preserved. Altaïr was the worst at being diplomatic and would just say whatever came to his mind, and as much as Malik would have wanted Altaïr to be destroyed he couldn’t allow it to happen.

 

“Your thoughts about your fellow competitors?” somebody asked in a hurry.

 

“Who were my competitors again?” Altaïr replied and a few laughs were heard from the audience.

 

Malik hurried to right Altaïr’s bag before it fell of his shoulder. Altaïr turned to look at him and Malik could see the piercing gaze of superiority which he answered in kind as his hands still hovered on Altaïr’s shoulder.

 

For an outsider it probably looked as if they were locked in a heated eye stripping with each other from what Malik’s experience had taught him. But what truly was said silently was anything but loving and more like the promise of a murder.

 

Then Malik broke the eye contact and stepped in front of Altaïr where he gently coaxed Altaïr to move backwards towards the changing rooms. Even through the jacket Altaïr wore he could feel his firm muscles that were spring loaded and ready to jump into action despite the seemingly lax manner Altaïr was facing the reporters.

 

Altaïr landed his hand on Malik’s waist and relaxed slightly.

 

“I have to go now as you can see there are matters that need to be taken care of,” Altaïr addressed the people and grinned a horrible toothy smile. Malik wanted to slap Altaïr but only smiled and pressed against Altaïr in an attempt to get him moving.

 

Disappointed noises could be heard from the crowd. It was understandable since they all had missed getting anything juicy out of Altaïr. It also meant that they had missed an opportunity to get anything scandalous out of him.

 

As they moved away from the annoying press and into one of the changing rooms Malik could feel Altaïr’s hand tightening against his side to the point it hurt him. He had to fight against the urge to snap at Altaïr or at least shrug himself off from the unwanted touch.

 

As soon as they had made it inside the changing room and closed the door behind Malik pulled himself away from Altaïr and Altaïr let him go like he was made out of hot coals. He couldn’t quite yet let Altaïr know the whole range of his emotions since it was a space where any athlete could just walk into but he could at least sit on one of the benches and sulk.

 

“I’m taking a shower and then we can go,” Altaïr informed him as he was rummaging his bag for a towel.

 

“Yeah. I just want to go to sleep,” he replied with a tone that was only semi-irritated.

 

Malik crossed his arms and leaned against the wall as Altaïr pulled off his clothes. It should have been illegal to have such a body on such a jerk of a man.

 

“You never do anything but sleep,” Altaïr said while eyeing his underwear with suspicion. Malik rolled his eyes.

 

“I do but your company tires me.”

 

Then Altaïr disappeared into the shower, leaving his dirty underwear on the floor and the rest of his clothes littered around just as haphazardly. It ground Malik’s gears that he had to stand Altaïr’s messy demeanour. Everything about Altaïr just frustrated him to no end.

 

But he was not going to start picking after Altaïr so he just turned his attention elsewhere. He pulled off his his phone wrapped around his wrist and straightened it so he could write on it more comfortably. He had to keep the thing always on his right wrist to prevent the magnetic fields mixing up with his bionic arm’s magnetic fields which might cause his arm to malfunction. The thing was essentially a coil and he already had enough trouble with his arm without messing up with the internal voltage too.

 

He typed a quick message to the social media where he celebrated Altaïr’s success and then turned to browsing the news. He could hear the water splashing against the tiled floor in the shower but tried his hardest to ignore any thoughts of Altaïr.

 

He skipped all the celebrity news since he didn’t want to see his own, Altaïr’s, or anyone else’s who he knew mug plastered on the tiny LED-screen. Unfortunately nothing important or interesting was happening in the world according to mass-media. Of course he knew the truth wasn’t quite as simple as that or assassins wouldn’t be needed in this world but for now Europe was in peace.

 

The door to the shower opened, drawing Malik’s attention away from his phone which he promptly wrapped back around his wrist.

 

Altaïr stepped into the room with the towel around his waist. His skin was still damp and glistening. A droplet fell from his wet hair, that stuck in all directions, and travelled down his pectorals and well defined abs before disappearing under the towel.

 

“Put on some clothes.” Malik had to pry his eyes away and attempted to concentrate on some speck on the wall instead of the nearly naked Altaïr before him.

 

“Do I make you uncomfortable?” Altaïr taunted.

 

Malik bit his teeth together hard while trying to swallow any rude comments he would have wanted to impart with.

 

“Just put on your clothes so we can go.”

 

Altaïr grunted something incoherent in response but for once actually obeyed and started putting on clothes. Malik sighed in relief. It wouldn’t have been the first time they ended up fighting over things like this but by some stroke of luck he didn’t have to go through with that today.

 

It didn’t take long for Altaïr to get dressed. He wore a white hoodie, like he pretty much always did, and blue jeans. He pulled the hood on and signalled to Malik that he was ready.

 

They left the sports arena through a back door where they were greeted by the buzzing sounds of Vienna in the summer. It was only a short walk to their car but Malik took the time to breath some fresh air while they walked. Altaïr seemed to be updating his status on social media just as Malik had done previously.

 

Their car was in a parking lot reserved for only the athletes. It unlocked itself as it detected them approaching it and the LEDs all around it flared to life colouring the car white with some red stripes. It was obviously Altaïr’s choice of colour since Malik would have never wanted something so gaudy. He didn’t get a say in the matter though since the car belonged to the brotherhood and it had been technically assigned to Altaïr. Of course it had been. Altaïr always got all the benefits.

 

He took his seat on the passenger side of the car while Altaïr sat on the driver’s side. The car did have a steering wheel and pedals but they were switched off for safety reasons and only to be used if the main driving system malfunctioned. Though he had never heard of a malfunction like that. It was basically an ancient relic from a time long since gone.

 

The windows were tinted black so nobody could see inside which gave Malik freedom to breath more easily without fear of letting his true emotions show. Or it would have if every car ride ever didn’t make him feel like he might be hit by a truck any minute if something went wrong.

 

“Take us to the hotel,” Altaïr commanded the car.

 

The screen in the middle console flicked quickly through various screens before settling on a map where their route was shown. The car opted for the shortest route by default but any number of of scenic routes were also available.

 

“Please, put on your seatbelt Mr. Ibn-La'Ahad,” the very polite voice spoke through the speakers.

 

Malik rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

 

“Don’t start arguing with the car and comply,” Malik said as he noticed Altaïr was just about ready to start talking back to the car.

 

“I have to agree with Mr. Al-Sayf. I am not allowed to move on before your seatbelt is on Mr. Ibn-La'Ahad.”

 

Altaïr threw his hands in the air, “I can’t believe a car is snarking at me!” But he put on his seatbelt and the car started backing off from the parking slot.

 

“The car wouldn’t have to snark at you if you weren’t such an idiot,” Malik snapped.

 

“At least I don’t have to grip my seat as if my sanity depended on it.”

 

“You are the douchiest man in existence.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

 

The rest of the trip was spent in complete silence and Malik felt even more sour than he usually did. He tried to ignore the traffic in front of him and concentrated on watching the scenery. Vienna was a beautiful city with a lot of old buildings in it which pleased his eye. He had always had a soft spot for architecture which was something he could utilise in his line of work in the most surprising ways.

 

They even crossed the Danube and he could see all kinds of ferries and ships going up and down the river. The sight drew his attention away from his dark thoughts for a while as he stared in amazement at the sight. It looked like a highway on water which he supposed it pretty much was.

 

The car pulled in front of their hotel which was in the newer part of the city though it had been built to resemble the old city. If it wasn’t for the part in between the old city and the new city, that had concrete blocks and ghastly white buildings in it, it would have been impossible to tell them apart.

 

Altaïr picked up his bag from the trunk of the car and Malik made sure his own frustrations didn’t show. The car sorted itself to the hotel’s underground parking lot where it would remain waiting for them.

 

They would be staying in the city for one more day which they would officially spend sightseeing and unofficially they would be taking out their target. Then they would return back to home in Brussels.

 

They had already checked in to the hotel three days ago so they didn’t need to do anything but get into their room. The worker in the lobby greeted them and Malik felt obliged to greet back while Altaïr just marched towards the lift.

 

Their room was only on the third floor so they could have taken the stairs but Malik knew that despite Altaïr’s demeanour the man was actually tired from the whole ordeal and as much as he hated the man he could understand at least this bit. He wasn’t heartless. He wasn’t Altaïr.

 

The lift dinged as it reached their floor and the mirror-covered doors opened to reveal an awful looking beige carpet universal to every hotel everywhere. It was soft under feet, dampened noises, and was an eyesore.

 

The doors were modern and opened up with keys. Some old hotels still had key cards in use but they were very unsecure so they avoided those.

 

Malik kicked his shoes out as soon as he made it inside. He was really starting to feel how tired he was and the double bed looked inviting in the centre of the room. He had already drawn the curtains before so he didn’t have to pretend anything any longer and it was relieving.

 

He flopped on the bed and fell asleep immediately. His phone would wake him up for dinner and medication later on.

 

*************

 

The next day he woke up to the feeling of someone being pressed against his back. The extra warmth felt quite nice despite it being summer. He felt like sleeping for a bit longer since it had not been his phone that had woken him up but something else. The room was dimly lit. The only light coming into the room was through the curtains covering the window.

 

But then his sleep addled brain caught up as to what was going on and he jumped up like cold water had been thrown on him. He hissed curses which woke up Altaïr who looked confused while hugging a pillow.

 

“We have been discussing this! You stay on your side of the bed!” Malik snarled at Altaïr and ripped the blanket from over Altaïr just to throw it back with fury.

 

Altaïr raised his hands to cover his head as if he could escape the blanket attack.

 

“Like I would purposefully want to sleep at your side!” Altaïr shouted under the blanket sounding a bit muffled.

 

“Oh but you totally would because you know how much I despise your presence!”

 

Altaïr threw the blanket off to the side and if he had not been quite awake before he certainly was now, judging by his sharp frown.

 

“The feeling is mutual then!” Altaïr snapped back.

 

It was the end of the discussion for them and they just stared each other in mutual disgust.

 

Malik was the first one to move. He rummaged through his luggage until he found his drugs. Since he was already awake he might just as well as use the time for useful things. He gathered all the different pills to his hand and threw them into his mouth at once.

 

He hated swallowing pills but he had to if he didn’t want his arm falling off or his sanity going through the window.

 

“I’m taking a shower,” Malik stated. Altaïr didn’t bother showing any signs of having recognised his words and continued fiddling with his phone.

 

He flicked on the lights in the bathroom. The lights hurt his eyes for a while before his eyes could adjust.

 

The tile floor was pleasantly warm under his bare feet and he put the water running before he stepped under the shower so it would be warmed up. Then he took off his boxers which he left on the counter.

 

The water felt wonderful against his skin and he could feel his muscles relaxing under the constant spray of warm water. He turned the water a little bit more warmer and started washing himself up.

 

He tried concentrating on other things that weren’t Altaïr but it was hard thing to do since so much of his life revolved around the arrogant jerk. So he shook his head to clear his mind from such thoughts and tried to inspect his left arm.

 

The whole thing looked rather grotesque even if he had had it for ten years now. It was in fact his second enhanced arm since the first one was the one they had installed on him just to find out his body didn’t accept any foreign objects in it. It had been agonising ordeal and he had honestly thought he would die from how his stump of a left arm had reacted along with the rest of his body.

 

The arm which he had now was an experimental one built from slightly different materials which were more compatible with his body. Unfortunately it wasn’t completely compatible and he was stuck eating transplant rejection drugs for the rest of his life.

 

Only one in every two thousand people had a bad reaction to body enhancements, making the chances very slim. Apparently it was more common in the people from the Baltic region. His grandma was Estonian. Such great genes he had inherited.

 

He also never got the eagle eye enhancement the rest of the field assassins had since if he happened to have an adverse reaction to it there was no way of safely removing something from his brain. All the rest of the assassins had infrared vision at their command while he was just stuck with his own eyes. The world was such an unfair place.

 

Yet some people seemed to waltz through the life and the world around them like it was nothing.

 

He punched the water off and stepped out of the shower dripping wet.

 

He grabbed a towel from the rack and started drying himself off before throwing the towel on the floor and stepping on it to dry his feet. He leaned on the counter and took a long look at himself on the mirror above it.

 

Some stubble was growing on his cheeks which he decided to get rid off but otherwise there was nothing remarkable about him. He had the most boring coffee brown eyes and black hair which all ran in the family. Even in this regard Altaïr had him beat.

 

After he was done shaving he got out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist. He exchanged glances with Altaïr but didn’t speak a word. He really wasn’t in the mood of listening to Altaïr’s annoying whine so he just tuned the man out completely for a while and concentrated on putting some clothes on.

 

He could hear the bathroom door closing behind his back, indicating that Altaïr had decided to take a shower as well. He sighed and let his shoulders sag.

 

He ran his hands through his still damp unruly hair as he pondered what to put on. His musings didn’t take long though as he settled for his normal attire of black jeans, white collared shirt, and a beige vest. Super boring getup but he wasn’t a rock star to begin with but a failure of an assassin and musician.

 

After he was done putting on his clothes he took his phone and started flicking through the news. He saw Altaïr’s annoying face on one of the sports related news and skipped that section quickly. He didn’t want the news gloating at him about how amazing Altaïr was as well.

 

The morning was uneventful which was for the best since they had an important job to do today. They headed to the old part of the city and told the car to pick them up after three hours. It was the amount of time they needed to wade their way through some sightseeing attractions and into the very specific hotel where their target would be.

 

The weather was amazing and Malik would have enjoyed watching the attractions if it wasn’t for Altaïr. But he just braced himself and kept on smiling while walking hand in hand with Altaïr. He took a few selfies with Altaïr against some interesting sights and posted them on social media.

 

They slowly walked around and seemingly just happened to wander in front of their target location. Their target was a Templar named Sibrand who lived nearby and was currently very aggressively trying to get a law passed which would enable the Police to investigate anyone’s home without any advance notification or reason.

 

Sibrand had a habit of meeting up with his secret lover in this one hotel every Monday. He was a creature of habit and always rented the same room for his activities. The hotel was an age old posh place and had a restaurant downstairs.

 

The doors opened automatically as they stepped near them, revealing a pleasant hotel lobby and a restaurant to the right from the lobby desk. The lighting was kept purposefully low to create a comfortable and somewhat private atmosphere. The delicious smell of food hovered in the air.

 

“How can I help you?” asked the quite attractive looking woman behind the desk.

 

“We would like a table for two,” Altaïr answered and while Altaïr sorted out that Malik kept his eyes open like a hawk so he could see Sibrand’s lover leaving the hotel.

 

They had a very short window of time to work in between the woman leaving the hotel and Sibrand leaving the hotel. Malik would run a distraction to draw any prying eyes away from Altaïr sneaking up to the second floor where the target would be.

 

Malik saw the woman coming out of the lift. A silent counter started in his head at that moment. He elbowed Altaïr slightly like their cue was.

 

“I need to use the rest room. Could you show my partner to the table and he can pick me something while he’s at it,” Altaïr kissed Malik on the cheek and excused himself.

 

“This way,” the receptionist signalled with her hand.

 

Malik took in all the people going around in the dining hall. There was an old lady about to leave her table and a waitress carrying dirty dishes. Another customer walked towards him and the receptionist with a wine bottle in his hand.

 

He knew it was his chance. Just as he was about to pass the man he bumped into him hard enough for the man to drop his bottle while he himself fell on his ass. The adrenaline coursed suddenly into his veins and he could hear his heartbeat.

 

He yelped in surprise doing his best impression of being scared. The wine bottle shattered to pieces and for Malik’s delight it was at least half full of red wine. His clothes would be ruined but he could get new ones. All that was important was to get the mission done.

 

The only camera in the hotel lobby and restaurant was now definitely turned towards him as were all the employees attention with the customers as well. Just what he wanted for Altaïr to be able to slip unnoticed around the building.

 

“He bumped into me!” the man bellowed.

 

Several of the employees rushed towards the scene and helped Malik up.

 

“I would never!” Malik cried. “My clothes are all ruined!”

 

The employees fussed around him trying to furiously scrub him clean but there was no saving the obvious wine stains on his white shirt. They kept apologising to him to no end.

 

“You shit bumped into me and now my wine is gone!” the man kept insisting and it was the greatest fortune ever to have bumped into a man who was willing to keep arguing as the situation would just keep on going endlessly if he so wished.

 

“Why would I do that!” he gasped.

 

“I don’t know and I don’t care! I want you to pay for my wine!” the man argued.

 

“There must be some way to solve this,” the woman who had been manning the reception desk intervened on the conversation.

 

“I swear I didn’t bump into him!” Malik defended himself.

 

“I won’t be satisfied until this whiny bitch confesses to bumping into me and pays for this mess!”

 

It stung to be called a whiny bitch and Malik almost let his temper get the better of him before he could calm back down and resume his act. But he knew Altaïr should be back any minute now and he couldn’t risk it all. So he just bit down the angry words that were about to leave his mouth and took it.

 

“I am covered in wine and my clothes are ruined! Isn’t there any sympathy in you?” Malik whinged.

 

The man looked about to jump and give him a beating. It wouldn’t have mattered either as long as he could just keep the people distracted.

 

“What’s going on?”

 

Malik turned his head to see Altaïr coming from behind him with a vaguely annoyed expression. Malik turned around and lunged on to Altaïr’s embrace from where he looked over his shoulder at the angry man and the hotel employees.

 

“That man made me fall down and he threw his wine on me. Now he accuses me of having destroyed his wine bottle,” he explained as miserably as he could.

 

“We are leaving this place,” Altaïr said.

 

The receptionist hurried over as soon as she heard the words.

 

“Please do stay. I am sure we can arrange something. We are terribly sorry this had to happen,” the woman apologised.

 

“No. We are leaving for some more pleasant place. I’m sure there has to be a restaurant around here which doesn’t throw wine over my partner,” Altaïr replied.

 

“I am sorry this is the impression we left on you,” the woman said in defeat.

 

They exited the restaurant to the street where their car was waiting for them. They still needed to dine somewhere just to keep their cover up so they hopped inside the car and told it to find the nearest proper restaurant. Besides it was lunch time anyway and he was hungry.

 

As the car drove to their destination Malik changed clothes at the back seat. It was an uncomfortable affair in the cramped space while being hooked into the seatbelts but he managed in his task and was once more presentable.

 

“Was the restroom any good?” he asked because he couldn’t talk about murder in the presence of the car because it recorded everything and there was a chance somebody might steal it and use it against them.

 

“A bit dirtier than what I would have wanted but I suppose it was adequate,” Altaïr answered and shrugged.

 

“Good.”

 

The car stopped in front of an Italian restaurant. The place looked nice but it was Italian which was a problem. He had had his fill of Italians back at home.

 

“An Italian restaurant? Really?” Malik asked

 

“You asked for the nearest decent restaurant,” the car answered.

 

“It was a rhetorical question,” Malik replied and rubbed his face in an exaggerated manner.

 

“I have not been programmed to understand the difference between regular and rhetorical questions, Mr Al-Sayf.”

 

“Now you are just mocking me.”

 

“I wouldn’t dare such a thing, Mr Al-Sayf.”

 

Altaïr snorted on the driver’s seat. Malik just crossed his arms in a pout for a while but then sighed and got out of the car.

 

The car got out of sight as soon as they had both exited it. The restaurant did look decent from the outside and from the inside it wasn’t all that bad either if it wasn’t Italian that is. The Italians back at home may have given him something of a prejudice against anything Italian.

 

No waiter came to greet them at the door so they decided to just simply look for a free table. The place smelled of fresh pasta, tomatoes, and other vegetables. The whole place was decorated in the theme of the Italian state flag.

 

It would have been a great place for a romantic dinner except for the small problem of having to dine there with Altaïr. It was often he found himself wondering how a thing would be wonderful to experience with someone he actually loved instead of the jerk he was forced to associate with.

 

A waiter appeared, holding two menus in his hands. The man eyed Altaïr for a moment too long as he was handing Altaïr his menu. He could clearly recognise Altaïr but was at least still polite enough to keep his mouth shut.

 

“Would you like something to drink?” the waiter asked and eyed Altaïr even more. Malik wanted to just tell the man to fuck off and do his work.

 

“Water, please,” Malik ordered.

 

“A beer,” Altaïr said and Malik rolled his eyes even if he wasn’t supposed to.

 

“Ah you see, Mr. Ibn-La'Ahad, this is an Italian restaurant. We only serve wine here,” the waiter apologised and he did indeed know who Altaïr was.

 

“I don’t care. I want a beer. This is Austria, isn’t it?” Altaïr argued back and Malik had to try and suppress a groan.

 

Malik grabbed Altaïr’s hand over the table and forced Altaïr to look at himself straight in the eyes. He could not show his annoyance but he could most certainly try and make Altaïr behave himself.

 

“Is it _wise_ to have a pint right before an eleven hour drive back home?” and he stressed the word wise ever so subtly so that Altaïr would understand he meant he was an idiot.

 

“Fine. I’ll have a mineral water then,” Altaïr relented and Malik smiled like sunshine. The waiter looked relieved and disappeared to fetch their drinks.

 

Malik leaned forwards over the table as if to give a kiss to Altaïr which Altaïr answered in kind. But instead of actually kissing Malik whispered, “He knows who you are. Behave yourself unless you want to find your mug on the celebrity gossip news, again.”

 

Altaïr frowned and Malik just smiled and for once a genuine smile at that. Altaïr’s misery made him the happiest.

 

He scanned quickly through the menu for the options. After weighing between a few options he settled for a vegetable risotto and he wasn’t all that surprised when Altaïr ordered himself pasta with cricket sauce since he needed a high protein and high carbohydrate diet.

 

Their meal was uneventful as anything ever could be with Altaïr. They kept ignoring each other’s presence for the most part and only sometimes exchanging comments about the food or something else to keep up the appearances.

 

As soon as they had left the restaurant his phone informed him of a new message. They were waiting for the car to arrive at the pavement when he unfurled his phone to read the message. It was from Leonardo who urged him to follow the link attached to the message.

 

The link lead him to a news site and to a celebrity news story. It was a picture of him kissing Altaïr inside the restaurant they had just left. The waiter had obviously decided to cash in some extra by shamelessly photographing them and then sending it forwards.

 

At least their alibi was thoroughly covered if nothing else. He showed the picture to Altaïr who just stared at it stone faced. It wasn’t the first time he had seen himself associated in the media with Altaïr but he really didn’t want the entire world to think he actually had any feelings towards Altaïr.

 

He had an entire eleven hour journey back home which he could spend being miserable and he really would. He hated almost everything about his life.

 


	2. The asshole trio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for anyone who took interest in this story! All the feedback I get is treasured and gives me warm and fuzzy feeling inside :)
> 
> Beta-read by DarthTofu

The car drive to home was torturous. It didn’t come off as a surprise to Malik though since he got anxious beyond reason during any car ride and every car ride ever with Altaïr had been awful.

 

The summer heat also didn’t help the issue in the least bit and despite the air conditioner being on at all times it was still rather unpleasant especially since they couldn’t even agree on the temperature. So the air condition was left somewhere in between their respective opinions as some sort of half-assed compromise which made them both uncomfortable.

 

He would just try to meditate and clear his mind of any intrusive thoughts which would spiral him into an uncontrollable bout of anxiousness and terror. It was of course easier said than done and every now and again when a truck would zoom past them he would find himself gripping the seat with his knuckles white from the force he was using.

 

To make matters worse Altaïr would also let him know how ridiculous he thought Malik’s behaviour was and they would end up escalating into a fighting match from there. One of their arguments stopped only when they stopped for food, relief, and ethanol for the car at a service station.

 

They had several of such stops during the trip which always brought a much appreciated break in the torturous car ride for Malik. Though of course there was another kind of trial for him during those times as he needed to resume his act but it was still preferable to being scared of trucks or listening to Altaïr’s bitching.

 

As the night started falling on them they were already very close to home. The yellow street lights cast light into the darkness.

 

Altaïr had fallen asleep a while ago already and while Malik felt tired himself he just couldn’t sleep as much as he wanted. He would flinch every time a car passed them in the darkness and he felt like the world was slowly distorting out of place as his eyes were getting tired.

 

He tried rubbing his eyes but it didn’t help him in the slightest. His head was starting to hurt and he felt slightly nauseated. He didn’t want to throw up. He wished they were already back home.

 

It took another half an hour for them to reach the apartment block they lived in. Several windows still had lights on despite it being almost midnight. The residents in the said block weren’t of the usual kind so it wasn’t exactly a surprise.

 

Sicarius Inc. owned the apartment block with a few others in the same area and housed some of their employees in them. The housing prices were through the roof in the Brussels area so it was a blessing for them since their work commute was kept to humane standards that way.

 

Malik stepped out of the car as soon as it stopped, relieved he had made it alive back home. Somewhere in the car Altaïr still scrambled to straighten his limbs enough to climb out.

 

As Malik was getting his things from the trunk somebody threw a bag out of a window on the sixth floor. Whatever had been in the bag smashed into pieces against the hard tarmac surrounding the building.

 

“Ezio seems to be in a good mood,” Altaïr yawned and stretched his spine.

 

“Ezio is an imbecile. Obviously it’s a family trait,” Malik couldn’t help himself as the fatigue was finally taking its hold on him.

 

Malik started walking towards the door ignoring Altaïr.

 

“As is dying pointlessly,” Altaïr replied casually while rummaging the trunk for his things.

 

It made Malik turn on his heels.

 

“You fucking asshole,” he seethed and he would have punched Altaïr right there and then if it didn’t land him with a half a year of blacklisting.

 

Altaïr grinned at him like a maniac because he knew he had won this round and Malik could do nothing about it. If Malik’s mood had been sour before now he was positively livid.

 

As he dragged himself up the four storeys until he got to his own apartment he couldn’t help but think how miserable he really was. He had to put up with Altaïr on a daily basis who just gloated about his success and Malik’s misfortune constantly, his only living relatives were his grandparents who lived in the North, and every shred of success he ever had was somehow always inferior to that of someone else.

 

He turned the key in the lock and felt the amazingly satisfying feeling of the locking mechanism popping open. He pulled the rather heavy door open and pushed the communicating door inwards. He threw his back on the carpet before shutting both of the doors.

 

It was dark inside his home as it was supposed to be. He didn’t bother putting on lights as he kicked his shoes out and walked straight into his bedroom. He needed sleep so badly.

 

He stripped off his clothes quickly and against his normal conduct he left them hanging from a chair instead of neatly putting them away waiting for a laundry. He reminded himself how he needed to pick up his cat from Leonardo the next day.

 

Then he passed out.

 

*****************

 

The next day he woke up way past midday. He had only stirred enough in the morning to take his medication and then just dozed off right away.

 

He felt as if he had a hangover despite not having drunk anything the previous night. He still lay in his comfortable bed hugging his pillow with both of his arms. He didn’t want to get up just yet. The soft covers were too nice against his skin.

 

After fifteen minutes of procrastinating getting up he finally relented and pushed his blanket off to sit up. He felt a bit dizzy as his blood pressure tried suddenly adjusting him being in a somewhat vertical position. So he waited until the feeling had passed.

 

He picked up his phone from his night stand and checked for any messages. There was a ton of them though he suspected that most of them were just advertisements or some desperate reporter trying to get to Altaïr through him.

 

No Brotherhood business was ever conducted through open phone lines. He would have to drag himself to the headquarters today and give his report. Maybe he could even catch Leonardo there and go home together, and then pick up his cat.

 

Leonardo’s shift ended at four and it was now almost one. He did have plenty of time for everything. He finally stood up as the dizziness had passed and wandered through his small apartment into his bathroom.

 

As he brushed his teeth he couldn’t help but think how relieving it was to have break from Altaïr. The arrogant jerk lived right next door to him which was unfortunate to say the least but at least he didn’t have to watch his stupid face all day and all night.

 

And he loved being home where everything was in their familiar places and nobody could mess up his strict order. Even the shower was superior in his opinion to anything else.

 

He dried himself and put on new underwear before making his way to his kitchen. He opened up his fridge only to find it practically empty. He had taken care to not leave anything that might spoil before leaving to Vienna. He frowned at the thought of having to go grocery shopping.

 

He did have oatmeal though so he made himself some porridge and tea. The tea was his guilty pleasure because while it cost him an arm and a leg to purchase he just couldn’t quite quit the habit of having a cup every morning.

 

As he enjoyed his very delayed breakfast he browsed through the news. There was celebrity news of Ezio having had an argument with his latest girlfriend and having thrown out the said woman’s bag out of the window along with a few honey melons.

 

Last night’s mystery was solved then though he would have rather not have known about this but it was inevitable he supposed. Why Ezio even lived in the dingy employee apartments was beyond him but so often the whole place just resembled college dorms since none of the assassins seemed to be quite right in the head.

 

For once he could not find anything more about Altaïr and himself on the news and he was glad for it. He didn’t want publicity and especially not publicity from being sort of Altaïr’s accessory in the eyes of the public.

 

Then he found the news that he had silently hoped to find.

 

“Parliament Member Asphyxiated During Sex,” was what the news article said.

 

He took a sip from his tea before fully committing to the article.

 

According to the article a police had been called to the scene but they had not found any evidence of a crime. Sibrand had last been spotted signing in to the hotel with a woman and the woman had left before he had. Nothing else had been found on the security cameras.

 

It almost literally hurt him to admit that while Altaïr was a complete and utter asshole the man definitely knew how to do his job. Though he felt like he was just as good himself.

 

He finished his very late breakfast and got dressed up so he could head out.

 

As he stepped out of his door he made sure he had his keys and his wallet. He didn’t want to be trapped outside of his door and have to call the janitor.

 

The whole block was silent as a grave. Everyone else was already at work at this hour of the day. He tried closing the door as silently as he could because even then the echoes were as loud as gunshots as they bounced off the walls. His own steps also sounded too loud in the near silence of his surroundings.

 

He could sneak quietly but that would be even more ridiculous considering it was his own home building he was in and not on a job to assassinate someone. He refused to take the lift and instead took the stairs down all four floors.

 

When he got outside he was greeted by a warm breeze. He headed to the left from the building towards a small park. Sicarius Inc. was just beyond the park and it wouldn’t take him more than a ten minutes to get there by foot.

 

He took a look at his phone on his right wrist and it informed him it was slightly past one. He would probably be at the headquarters at half past one.

 

When he reached the park he tried to take in as much of the serene atmosphere in it and clear his thoughts while he walked. He paid attention to how the trees looked that day and tried to find any squirrels that might be trying to beg for morsels from people.

 

The pathway through the park was made out of gravel which was a much appreciated change from the normal hard-underneath-feet tarmac that almost everything in the city was covered in. It was for that reason why a lot of joggers could be found in the park at every given time of the day. Even now a few ran past him as he leisurely just walked.

 

Then he reached the other side and the Sicarius Inc. buildings dominated the landscape. They were built before the current era of ecobuilding had taken over and were predominantly made out of glass and concrete. There were three of them and they were all connected with tunnel-esque walkways so that the employees could switch buildings with ease or at least that was the idea at the time they were built.

 

The buildings contained the research and development, experimental hospital, and the finance and administration. He closed in on the administrative building since he needed to report to the CEO of the company itself who was also the current grandmaster of the Assassins.

 

Sliding doors opened automatically letting him inside to a lobby. He needed to give his phone away at the reception for safety reasons. They couldn’t risk any information leaking outside of any of their operation whether or not they were their official or unofficial business.

 

He handed out his phone and the receptionist sent a message forward that he had arrived. It wasn’t like he could use his phone for anything anyway since the building was EMP protected which meant no signal could get in nor could it get out as was standard procedure in any big companies. Phones simply did not work there.

 

The buildings shared an internal network between them where information could be shared easily between the apartments but only few computers had an access to the Internet. It was far too great security risk to have potential hackers making their way to their internal systems.

 

As he waited for a permission to proceed he took in his surroundings in case of there were any of his friends or even worse Altaïr waiting for an admission but all he could see in the lobby were just some people in formal suits he could not recognise. Looking from an outsiders perspective it would have been impossible to tell that the company was a cover operation for Assassins since everything was decorated in the same universally boring yet neutral style as all the large companies were.

 

“You may go in,” the receptionist said and smiled politely at him.

 

Malik just nodded to acknowledge them and proceeded to call the lift. It took a while for the lift to arrive but once it did it was for his delight: empty of other people.

 

He pushed the button to the eighth floor and the doors closed way too slowly for his liking. He refused to look himself in the large mirror that was in the confined space and instead leaned against it. The lift stopped once to let another passenger in.

 

He may have had a bit of an irrational fear that the lift may get stuck between floors or malfunction otherwise. It was why he preferred to take the stairs whenever possible even if it meant climbing a lot of stairs. But he reasoned that since he was still young and fit he was almost obliged to use his feet whenever possible.

 

The other person who came to lift left on the seventh floor and the lift continued to ascend afterwards for a while before it stopped for Malik’s floor. The doors opened to reveal the always as unnervingly silent eighth floor where only three rooms existed.

 

It had the offices for the CEO and the company’s president, and a negotiation room. It was sparsely decorated with only a few paintings hanging from the walls and no seats to be seen anywhere.

 

Malik could feel his hand sweating as he stepped out of the lift. He shouldn’t have any reason to feel as anxious as he did but he couldn’t help it. Giving reports was always an unnerving experience and he was sure it was intentionally like that.

 

The door he needed to reach was at the end of the hallway. There was no carpet over the stone floor and his every step sounded like they were magnified through a speaker in the quietness of the space. The walk seemed to last for hours as his nerves acted up.

 

He realised he was holding his breath as he was about to knock on the door. So he exhaled rather heavily and tried to compose himself. He had to remind himself that he was an assassin and had been in situations much more demanding than this but it failed to comfort him like it did every time he was supposed to face the Grandmaster.

 

“Come in,” called a voice from the other side of the door. The Grandmaster must have heard his footsteps miles away.

 

Malik opened the door hesitantly and slipped inside quickly. He pulled the door close and stood straight as if he had swallowed an iron bar.

 

Behind the huge and probably ancient oaken desk sat Rashid ad-Din Sinan or how novices afraid of him had dubbed him years ago, Al Mualim. To say the Grandmaster unnerved Malik would be an understatement since Malik always found himself wanting to flee from the man’s all-seeing gaze. His fight or flight instincts always flared to life as he stood under the Grandmaster’s scrutiny and he knew it made no sense whatsoever but he couldn’t help it.

 

He couldn’t help a lot about himself so he just stood there fighting himself until he was released. In the beginning he had thought his feelings would dissipate as the time went on but they did not. In fact he was sure his anxiety levels were the highest they had ever been.

 

“How was Vienna, Malik?” Al Mualim asked conversationally.

 

“Good, I suppose,” Malik answered and cursed himself as he noticed the Grandmaster’s expression change at his remark.

 

“You suppose?”

 

“I’m sorry. I meant it was simply good. Working with Altaïr is a joy,” and he wanted to throw up from the sheer dread he felt in his stomach.

 

“Good. Very good. Altaïr gave his report this morning so I already know the important things.”

 

Malik felt his own expression turning into an involuntary frown as he was clearly dismissed and he couldn’t figure out why he was even wanted to report if Al Mualim already knew the details.

 

“He also said that you defied his orders, again,” and there it was, the real reason he was here.

 

He felt his eyes starting to wander around the room, trying to scan for an escape route which he knew there was none besides the door behind him. The horrible all consuming feeling of his innards shattering to pieces was slowly but surely catching up to him as he waited for his punishment from the most terrifying man in the whole world.

 

“Altaïr is the leader on your missions and you need to do all you can to support him. I would put you into house arrest for your actions but since we are still short on field agents I can’t. But remember, once Arno and Ezio return to the roster you will be punished then. You are dismissed,” Al Mualim concluded.

 

Malik bowed as politely as he could despite his inner turmoil and fled the room. He wasn’t given a chance to defend himself against Altaïr’s unfounded accusations and it wasn’t even the first time.

 

He half-ran to the lift as he finally succumbed to the instincts that told him to get as far away from the eighth floor as possible. It took way too long for the lift to arrive but once it did he thanked every god he did not believe in that it was empty.

 

He didn’t want to show how vulnerable he felt at that moment. The Grandmaster dealt justice swiftly and without bothering to listen to all sides. Altaïr was his precious pet and could do whatever he wanted. Altaïr was talented, Altaïr was successful, Altaïr came from a long line of Assassins, and Altaïr would probably some day take over the entire order.

 

Meanwhile Malik was a high maintenance emotional wreck from somewhere up North with nothing remarkable to be mentioned about his family. It was so unfair how much work he had put into getting to the position he was in and yet even that was not enough. Nothing ever was.

 

He ran his hands over his face with the attempt of calming himself down. He couldn’t show any of this to the world.

 

The lift stopped at the fourth floor. He breathed in deeply before stepping out.

 

He steeled himself up as he walked past the various office cubes littering the floor. The cacophony of noises there was like music to his ears as the office workers there conducted their business. He could just slip past them anonymously and into the tube like structure connecting this building with the research and development building.

 

He stopped inside the glass tube and looked towards the bustling city. It was much warmer in there than it was anywhere else in the building. People walked past him without paying any attention to him and he could collect his thoughts in a relative peace while pretending to admire the scenery.

 

The truth was he had seen the scenery so many times in his life there was nothing to admire about it. All he could ever think about was how the parliament gathered in the city and how the Templars attempted to manipulate the public opinion through politics. Brussels wasn’t a pretty city from the inside at all.

 

It was also the reason why he was in this line of business. Despite all the shit he had to go through he believed in justice and equality. He would be betraying his own father if he didn’t. He could feel the normal feeling of constant irritation settling on him like an old friend and he welcomed it.

 

With a relative peace of mind achieved he continued to the other building. There he avoided all the people working on the fourth floor and took stairs down to the third floor. The third floor contained one single huge lab in it which was surrounded by a hallway from every direction, forming a kind of a moat around it.

 

The lab didn’t have any windows in it but Malik didn’t need any to know who worked inside. He found the door and knocked on it. There was also a doorbell but he knew it was disabled a long time ago.

 

Nobody bothered to answer the door so he just pushed down the door handle and walked in. There in the low light, and he couldn’t help but wonder how the man could work in such a poor lighting, was Leonardo hunched over something. The man had the world’s messiest ponytail and his lab coat was discarded on top of a chair.

 

Someone who wasn’t familiar with Leonardo might have thought he was a hobo who had accidentally wandered into a lab and escorted him out, but being the most brilliant engineer in Sicarius Inc. gave him freedoms to act in his particularly peculiar ways.

 

“Hi. I know you heard me come in,” Malik greeted his friend.

 

“Ah yes, yes. Wait a minute I’ll be done in a second,” Leonardo answered without taking his eyes away from whatever it was.

 

Malik pulled the chair with the lab coat on it and sat on it backwards to observe Leonardo’s working until the engineer was done. The lab was a complete mess and Malik couldn’t understand how Leonardo was ever able to find anything from there but there apparently was some sort of order to the chaos because cleaners weren’t allowed inside to even dust the place.

 

There were circuit boards in various stages of completion laying in piles, parts of electromechanical components discarded on floor, metres upon metres of wire, and all of the tools were littered everywhere like a tornado had passed through. It hurt the perfectionist inside him to see such disarrangement.

 

“All done!” Leonardo declared and straightened up to face him properly.

 

“Have you remembered to feed Cadence?” Malik asked and leaned on the back of the chair with his arms.

 

“I have. We had a really good time together while you were gone. You should give him to me more often,” Leonardo chirped and smiled like the Sun.

 

“You didn’t try to tweak his legs again, did you?”

 

“Noo! What gave you such an idea!” and Leonardo was just a little bit too eager to defend himself which made Malik suspicious.

 

“Maybe because the one time I came to pick him up and you had changed his legs entirely?”

 

“But his old legs were so crude! He deserved better.”

 

Malik knew Leonardo meant nothing bad when he fiddled with Cadence’s legs. The Siamese cat was an ex-test animal from Sicarius before he became Malik’s therapy animal. Cadence had been born without front legs and had experimental bionic legs installed on him. The irony of the situation didn’t escape Malik.

 

“At least you fed him.”

 

Leonardo leaned on the table behind himself and chuckled. Their banter was good natured as it should be between friends.

 

“How was the mission?” Leonardo asked since he was one of the few working in the R&D that actually knew what happened behind the scenes. He maintained Malik’s arm for example among countless other things. His work was extremely classified which is why he had his own huge lab on the third floor of the building where only few people were even allowed to access.

 

“Good I suppose. I got reprimanded by Al Mualim for going against Altaïr’s orders, again,” Malik shrugged and pretended the whole ordeal had not stung him the way it had.

 

“I would advise you to be more careful but I know you already know this,” Leonardo laughed uneasily.

 

“Well it’s what happens when you get partnered with an asshole,” and the words came out with more bite than he had intended.

 

“At least you sometimes get sex out of that deal,” Leonardo replied while moving to get his lab coat underneath Malik’s arms.

 

Leonardo pulled a pocket watch from one of the pockets of the coat and checked for time before slipping the watch into his trousers’ pockets.

 

“Yeah, it’s totally worth it to have angry sex with someone you hate because the both of you are so in need of a release after months of celibacy,” Malik rolled his eyes.

 

“I don’t get any, you know,” Leonardo sighed and motioned towards the door.

 

Malik got up from the chair and followed Leonardo out of the lab. They stopped to lock the door before heading to the staircase.

 

“You could get some if you got out and stopped chasing after Ezio.”

 

They passed several different labs as they ascended to the R&D building’s lobby. They all developed body enhancements for various purposes and needs. Most of the research was actually geared towards consumer use instead of for the Assassins. That’s where Malik’s arm came from. He was the only Assassin with such a body enhancement since installing any visible ones brought along the risks of being found out and then being blacklisted.

 

“But you don’t understand. Ezio is so dreamy and when he speaks Italian it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

 

Malik snorted and Leonardo tried giving him a stern look of disapproval but failed miserably. Leonardo just didn’t do angry in a believable way.

 

“First of all Ezio is a complete asshole. Last night he threw his girlfriend’s bag out of the window. Second of all he’s as straight as they come. And thirdly, you don’t even speak Italian.”

 

Leonardo picked up his phone from the lobby’s receptionist.

 

“Well I could probably learn Italian if I wanted.”

 

Malik couldn’t help but laugh at Leonardo.

 

“You tried learning Italian already once and how did that work out?” Malik asked and pointed towards the other building as they stepped out into the sunshine.

 

Leonardo was a undoubtedly a genius in many aspects like in mathematics and in art which combined made him the most amazing engineer the world had probably ever seen. But Leonardo didn’t have head for languages at all. Most people in Sicarius Inc. were at least bilingual as the people were recruited all over Europe and the only criteria was exceptional IQ level or exceptional skills in an area of expertise. The field assassins were recruited at a young age by talent seekers and that’s how Malik had ended up in there.

 

“That aside. No man is straight until proven otherwise and I’m sure his assholishness is just an exterior to a softy inside,” Leonardo defended himself.

 

“You out of all the people should know that there’s no changing anyone through power of love. How many assholes you need to date before you realise this?”

 

Leonardo had a horrible thing for complete jerks for some bizarre reason. It was a complete mystery how Leonardo seemed to be unable to learn from his mistakes when it came to his personal love life.

 

“You are also a bit of an asshole,” Leonardo said and patted him in the back.

 

They walked inside the administrative building’s lobby and picked up his phone from there. He needed to buy some groceries so instead of heading towards the park he chose to start walking towards the city.

 

“But we are not dating.”

 

“We could be.”

 

“First golden rule of any relationships: Do not have sex with your best friend.”

 

“And it wouldn’t work out anyway since we are both too similar in our tastes,” Leonardo laughed and made some childish rude gestures into the air.

 

Malik let a small chuckle escape before attempting to force his expression back to a frown. He shielded his eyes for a bit to see where he was actually going.

 

“I need to pick out some groceries. Want to come along?”

 

“Only if you cook too,” Leonardo answered and sounded just a little bit mischievous. The chances were he had known Malik was going to the store since their route deviated from the normal.

 

“Sure. Why not.” He could cook for two just as easily as he could for himself and spending time with someone who was not a complete douchebag was always a plus.

 

There was a small corner store not that far away from Sicarius Inc.’s buildings which served the purpose Malik intended just fine. He didn’t need any fancy things anyway.

 

Small bells chimed as he opened the door to the homely store. The store imitated the style of 21st century village boutiques and was crammed up from floor to the ceiling in things and the aisles between shelves were small, barely enough for two people to pass each other.

 

“Mashed potatoes and vegetable sauce?” he asked as Leonardo eyed the selection of tomatoes on display.

 

“I think I would prefer beans since I haven’t eaten anything with protein today.”

 

“I bet you haven’t eaten anything today, let alone protein.”

 

He picked red kidney beans along with all the rest of the things he needed. It was easy to cook for Leonardo since they both lived of vegetarian diet so they could just both eat the same thing. He also hated dealing with live insects since some of them tended to get everywhere. Mealworms for example tasted like crap when frozen so buying them live was a must.

 

He had forgotten to bring his shopping bag with him so he was forced to buy a new one at the counter. He meticulously organised all of his things into the bag so he could fit everything there. He didn’t want to come back to the store before next week.

 

He bid the store clerk a goodbye before exiting the store. It was still warm and sunny outside which made him wish he could just roll up his sleeves to feel cooler like the rest of the people. Like what Leonardo was currently doing.

 

“Could you watch Cadence next weekend too? I am going to play in Düsseldorf on both Saturday and Sunday. I need to leave there early in Saturday morning,” Malik asked as they walked through the park.

 

“I can’t. My parents are coming over and my mother is so allergic to cats she might get a reaction just from the lingering hairs in my apartment. Maybe Shaun could watch him,” Leonardo answered apologetically.

 

Malik rubbed his neck with his free hand as he tried to solve the problem he was facing. He had to get to his target on later Saturday evening after his performance and there was no way for him to come back home.

 

Leonardo hummed something completely out of tune. Malik sighed.

 

“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure you’ll figure out something,” Leonardo assured him and patted him on the back.

 

They had made it back to the apartment complex. Malik could practically hear Leonardo’s stomach grumbling in anticipation of food.

 

“I’ll go get Cadence from my apartment and why don’t you start making the food in the meanwhile,” Leonardo suggested as they climbed the stairs.

 

Leonardo lived on the floor above him and was neighbours with Shaun. It was a really convenient thing for them since they could easily just pop into each other’s homes.

 

“I’ll leave the door open,” Malik said and stopped to listen. Leonardo stopped as well and frowned slightly.

 

“What’s that noise?” Leonardo asked and Malik shrugged though he had his suspicions. There was the infernal noise of music blaring from somewhere above them. It wasn’t good music either but some horrible pop-100 crap.

 

They continued to climb the stairs until they were on Malik’s floor. The door to Altaïr’s apartment was open and the source of the noise was inside the apartment. Noises belonging to the asshole trio as Malik had dubbed Altaïr, Ezio, and Arno in his mind could be faintly heard above the music.

 

They both stared at the open door for a while unsure what to do before Leonardo broke the silence between them “I’ll get Cadence. See you in a bit.” Malik just nodded and started searching his pockets for his keys.

 

As he was unlocking the door with his keys a loud argument broke out in Altaïr’s apartment. Horrible ear shattering shrieks in Italian, French, and German could be heard and none of it made any sense when shouted over each other.

 

Malik could feel his temper trying to get better of him and he needed to grit his teeth to avoid the almost reflexive need to storm in and punch the idiots into silence. He pulled his key out of the lock with more force than was necessary and left the door open.

 

His apartment was rather dark because he had curtains drawn everywhere and no lights on. He switched the lights on, took his shoes off, and tried his hardest to ignore the idiots next door as he ventured to his kitchen with his groceries.

 

He quickly put things into their places and left what he needed on the kitchen counter. Then he started looking for the pans and pots necessary.

 

Leonardo got back, holding Cadence who didn’t seem to have any new legs installed of him this time which was a relief. The cat started fidgeting on Leonardo’s arms as he noticed Malik and managed to free himself to run an greet Malik.

 

Malik crouched down to pet Cadence. He had been missing the silly thing so much even if he had been gone for only four days. The cat’s fur felt silky soft under his hand and he could hear the loud purring despite all the noise coming from the next door apartment.

 

“I thought we could make a red wine sauce,” Leonardo beamed and sat down at the table.

 

“You’ve got any wine then?” he asked while not stopping petting Cadence.

 

“Nope, but Shaun does. I asked him over too,” Leonardo answered and just as he had finished his words a sarcastic “What is that bloody noise?” could be heard from the door.

 

“Please shut the door behind yourself so that the stupidity won’t spread,” Malik replied and stood up to his full height.

 

“I brought beer,” Shaun announced and both of their reaction was sound of disgust spoken in unison before they burst into laughter.

 

“And I have also wine for you two princesses.” Shaun waved two bottles in his hands.

 

“It’s Tuesday. Don’t you two have work tomorrow?” he asked since the obvious intention behind Shaun’s offerings were to get drunk and Leonardo seemed all too eager to hop aboard the plan.

 

“I am the head engineer. Who is going to punish me if I’m hungover at work and as for Leonardo. I don’t think anyone would even dare to question if he just didn’t bother showing up for the fear of upsetting him,” Shaun asked as if it was the most logical thing in the world and Leonardo just nodded enthusiastically at the explanation.

 

The awful music sounded only muffled through the wall. He was in a company of friends and his cat was rubbing himself against his feet. What was there to lose if he indulged just a bit?

 

Shaun dropped the various alcohols he had brought onto the table and sat down. Leonardo snatched one of wine bottles lightning fast.

 

“Could one of you help me peel the potatoes instead of acting like stereotypes?” Malik eyed the two who seemed to consumed with the need to get drunk as fast as they possibly could.

 

“The peel has the most vitamins, you know,” Leonardo replied.

 

“Yes, but the peels don’t exactly enhance the mashed potatoes,” Malik said.

 

“Is that how the Irish enjoy their potatoes? Barbarically without bothering to peel them?” Shaun quipped.

 

“I’m Italian-Irish, you know,” Leonardo defended himself.

 

Malik threw two potatoes and two knives to the middle of the table and turned his attention back to the counter.

 

“Yes, mom,” Shaun said and earned a murderous stare from Malik.

 

Somehow they managed to get the potatoes peeled and into the pot. The sauce was also well on its way and Malik could finally sit down himself and enjoy a drink.

 

“I pity the people who had to work with frequency converters and servo motors in the past. How anyone ever thought such cumbersome components could be used for bionics is beyond me,” Leonardo explained and was obviously just a little bit tipsy judging by the wild hand movements involved in the explanation.

 

Malik took a sip from his drink. The wine was obviously some cheap brand as it left a slightly bitter after taste.

 

“But you see those are still pretty much the only option in industrial usage since our components are way too fragile for the kind of stress they are put under,” Shaun answered.

 

Malik could lose himself into the kind of conversation the two were having. For once it felt almost as if he was normal. A nice buzz settled over his mind drowning out the unwanted thoughts that were always trying to surface.

 

The food ended up being excellent though he wasn’t sure if it was because he was a good cook or because of the pleasant company he was in.

 

They continued drinking afterwards since they still had plenty of booze to go around. For a while he questioned if Shaun had a drinking problem because he had so much alcohol just laying around his apartment but then he realised he didn’t really care.

 

The asshole brigade next door had gotten louder during the last hour or so and it was obvious they had also opened up a window in addition to the door. He wouldn’t have paid any attention to it but Leonardo started going about Ezio once more.

 

“You realise he got blacklisted for a half a year for a really good reason?” Shaun questioned Leonardo.

 

“I think it was unfair judgement from the police,” Leonardo defended with a slurr.

 

“You think it was unfair to fine him for starting a bar fight with Arno?” Malik asked and couldn’t help but laugh at the mental gymnastics Leonardo managed to pull to defend his horrible crush. The whole thing had been all over the news and the most idiotic part about it was the reason.

 

“They argued over whether France or Italy makes the best wine,” Leonardo supplied helpfully.

 

Shaun rolled his eyes. “Surely the dilemma of our time.”

 

Then the booming music stopped from the next door. But instead of it becoming silent a violin started playing. Malik could tell from the sound alone that it was Arno playing the instrument but for what purpose?

 

His window was knocked which startled them all. Malik stood up on slightly wobbly legs and walked to the window, where he pulled the curtains aside. Outside on the narrow windowsill sat Ezio.

 

Leonardo jumped from his seat and rushed to Malik’s side. What the fuck was going on?

 

Then Ezio started singing. Badly and off key. Soon the singing and playing were completely desynched. Altaïr’s cackle could be heard from miles away.

 

Leonardo was completely taken by the display. Malik was not.

 

The doorbell rang.

 

“I’ll go get it,” Shaun said and got up.

 

Malik wanted to throw the idiotic Italian off the windowsill and watch him fall into his death, where someone would have to scrape the man out of the concrete with a shovel. Why couldn’t these idiots leave him the fuck alone for even one evening?

 

He hated Italians so much.

 

“I’m sorry but please don’t throw Ezio down.”

 

Malik turned around to find Desmond Miles who was Altaïr’s American cousin walking past Shaun who was on the door. Desmond had been brought over to Europe to cover for Arno and Ezio but had taken on only one mission during his stay.

 

Desmond had apparently not been quite up to the European standards and while the man was nice enough he definitely lacked in many departments. His cover job also left something to be desired. Why did the Americans think a bartender made for a good cover?

 

“Take him and leave,” Malik practically growled.

 

“I will. I will! I’m so sorry!” Desmond almost ran to the window to let Ezio inside. The violin still played but instead of the horrible serenade it had switched to playing some folk tune.

 

The window was opened and the painfully obviously drunken Italian was let inside. The way Ezio leaned on Desmond for support as they waded back to the door made Malik wonder how the man had ever even managed to balance on the windowsill to begin with.

 

“I bid you ladies goodnight!” Ezio drawled and added some unintelligible Italian to the end.

 

Malik was only glad that the nuisances were gone as he closed the door behind the idiot pair. But his mood was ruined for good.

 

Nothing good ever came from associating with Altaïr in any way.

 

“And don’t even say anything about how Ezio is so sexy or I strangle you.” Malik pointed his finger at Leonardo who feigned ignorance.

 

Then he downed almost half a bottle of wine at once and hoped he would pass out before he could get even more angry at the world. But more than that before he would open his door and march to Altaïr’s apartment where he would kill everyone inside by strangling them with violin strings ripped from Arno’s violin.

 


	3. In need of a cat sitter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter tried to drain me completely and writing it took much longer than what it usually takes for me to write something of this length. I had to keep taking breaks all the time because I felt exhausted. But I finally got it written and I'm pretty happy with it. At least for now :D
> 
> Tremendous thanks for anyone supporting this story. It means a lot to me. It really does! :)
> 
> Beta-read by DarthTofu

Malik woke up, finding himself hugging Leonardo’s warm body and with Cadence sleeping on top of him. He took a look at his phone but it was only seven in the morning. Way too early for his morning medicine.

 

He had a terrible headache and his mouth felt like it was made out of sandpaper. It wasn’t all that hard to guess why that was.

 

He was determined to go back to sleep when the doorbell rang angrily and then somebody pounded at the door. Malik sighed, shrugged the cat off reluctantly, and got up from his bed.

 

He massaged his scalp in an attempt to calm down his flaring headache. He would never again drink. His left hand felt comfortably cool against his skin, making him realise he was not wearing his gloves.

 

He still wore yesterday’s clothes so he just slipped his left hand in his pocket as he walked to the door where he could now heard muffled noises through it. The whole apartment smelled of old booze and there were a few discarded bottles on the kitchen floor.

 

“Open up the door!” somebody shouted and rang the doorbell once more.

 

Malik took a peek out of the peephole and determined it was safe to open the door.

 

“Do you know what time it is?” Malik asked as he opened the door to reveal Rebecca behind it.

 

“Yes. It’s time for Shaun to leave for work,” Rebecca answered and invaded Malik’s home without asking to be invited in.

 

“What makes you think he’s here?” Malik questioned even if he wasn’t particularly interested in starting an argument but he was feeling fatigued and his head was killing him.

 

“I already tried his place, and Leonardo’s place, so the last place he could be was here. By the way it really stinks here.” Rebecca walked determinedly towards his kitchen.

 

“Thanks. I hadn’t noticed.” Malik rolled his eyes.

 

Sure enough Shaun was sleeping on his couch. Malik decided he needed something for his head while Rebecca was trying to rise Shaun from his deathly slumber.

 

Cadence jumped on the kitchen counter, begging for food and attention which Malik was more than happy to give to the cat. He could practically feel how his nerves settled as he petted Cadence’s silky soft fur.

 

Somehow Rebecca had managed to get Shaun on his feet even if he looked like a zombie. There was an unmistakable beer stain on Shaun’s shirt which neither of the two seemed to be aware of.

 

Malik swallowed an ibuprofen pill and some water to relieve his dry mouth.

 

“Where are you in a such a hurry?” Malik asked since it was obvious Rebecca was trying to drag Shaun away as fast as possible. Not that he particularly minded having his couch back.

 

“There’s going to be an inspection today. The head engineer can’t be missing for it,” Rebecca answered.

 

Malik leaned on the kitchen counter and tried to process the information in his literally pained brain.

 

“So why didn’t Shaun mention anything about this yesterday?”

 

“Because I didn’t know there was a bloody inspection today,” Shaun answered and held his head between his hands.

 

“So how does Rebecca know this then?”

 

“I work in communications. Nothing that happens inside the buildings escapes me. Not even Al Mualim’s personal notes,” Rebecca said as if it was the most normal thing in the world to be snooping on the Grandmaster’s personal files.

 

“Even more reasons why I will never put anything personal on the intranet.”

 

“You aren’t so interesting that I could be bothered to look up your things and I get an overexposure of your boyfriend via Internet anyway,” Rebecca replied while handing Shaun his shoes.

 

Somehow the statement really bit Malik somewhere deep inside him. He didn’t like that he was thought to be insignificant even if he was relieved his record probably sat there without anyone reading it for their enjoyment.

 

When the two were almost out of the door a thought reoccurred to him.

 

“Shaun, could you watch Cadence the next weekend?”

 

“I’m sorry but I can’t. I’m going to be out of town,” Shaun answered before Rebecca pulled him away and shut the door.

 

The throbbing in his head doubled that instant, but it wasn’t because of his hangover but because of his anxiety levels sky rocketing. He leaned his head against the front door. A thud could be heard from the movement.

 

Cadence rubbed himself against his legs, oblivious of the things relating to him that had just happened.

 

This was it. His entire safety net gone and he had no one to turn to any more. All of his living relatives lived so far away.

 

He had to tell himself to breathe several times over. It was no use to panic over finding a care taker for his cat. It wouldn’t help him in the slightest.

 

“What was all that noise?” A very groggy Leonardo appeared in the doorway, leaning against the wall while also holding his head.

 

“Rebecca came to collect Shaun,” Malik answered and collected himself in the blink of an eye.

 

“What for?” Leonardo wandered towards his kitchen.

 

There was no way for Malik to return to his bed after all this commotion and with his stomach feeling as if it was about to fall through his body. The whole situation nauseated him and not just because of his hangover.

 

Malik returned back to the kitchen and put the kettle on.

 

“There’s an inspection today.”

 

“I see,” Leonardo said nonchalantly and went straight for his cabinet where he kept his painkillers. In so many ways Leonardo was above all the ordinary workers in Sicarius. Even Al Mualim couldn’t do anything about him.

 

“Shaun can’t take Cadence for the weekend either,” Malik commented and reached for his tea.

 

He gestured to Leonardo with his tea package and Leonardo shook his head in refusal.

 

“I’m sure he’ll be fine if you just leave enough food and water for him You’ll be gone for a few days only. I hear people used to let their cats roam around wildly and they would go missing for days – even for weeks and they would still be fine.”

 

Leonardo’s words didn’t comfort Malik in the slightest. He wasn’t just about to leave the most precious thing in the world all by himself. Anything could happen while he was gone and he didn’t want to come back to another tragedy by the end of his weekend.

 

Leonardo just sat at his table and drank juice as if it was the most normal thing in the world to do. He wanted to scream at his friend for being a horrible human being. But he did not scream. He just bit his teeth together too tightly and waited for the most of the anger to pass before talking.

 

“I am sure it’s somehow illegal to leave your pets unattended and the people in the past weren’t exactly conscious of how animals feel. Just because they could survive didn’t make it good care.”

 

Malik sat down to face his friend. The raging headache was making thinking difficult so he leaned to held his head between his hands once more in an attempt to subdue the pain.

 

An awkward silence stretched between them only broken by Cadence occasionally meowing for attention from the kitchen counter. Malik knew he was getting angry at Leonardo for no reason but he couldn’t help but lash against the person nearest to him. It just happened to be Leonardo right there.

 

Leonardo got up from the table, making his chair scrape against the floor with a horrible screech which hurt Malik’s ears and seemed to make it right inside his brain. Malik didn’t bother raising his head to see what Leonardo was up to.

 

“I’m getting back to my place. I’ll see you later,” Leonardo said and reached out to squeeze Malik’s shoulder.

 

“Yeah. See you.”

 

Malik could hear the door closing with a quiet click as Leonardo was obviously trying to move silently.

 

He breathed in deeply and exhaled loudly, letting his shoulders slump. He was now alone in his apartment and he both welcomed the solitude and yet dreaded to be left alone.

 

It was only seven thirty and his appointment wouldn’t be until eleven. Until then he would be let alone with his own thoughts and he feared them. He knew that when he managed to work himself up to this point no amount of meditation would help him to clear his mind. It also wouldn’t help with his problems in the slightest.

 

Cadence jumped on the table and forcefully rubbed himself against Malik. He found his hands drawn to pet the cat almost against his will. It brought him some peace of mind as he could just concentrate on the mindless task of running his hand from the cat’s head to the tip of his tail.

 

He listened to the loud purr as Cadence shut his bright blue eyes which were the same colour as his brother’s had been. The same colour his father’s had been. Each time he doubted his purpose he would only have to look at Cadence and he would remember once more.

 

So it did this time as well. He gave the cat a kiss between the ears and left to take a shower.

 

The water cascaded down on his back and travelled until it hit the floor where it disappeared into the sewer. He tried focusing on the sensation it caused on him and less on the feeling of the walls slowly trapping him inside of them.

 

The claustrophobia was just a trick of his mind which constantly attempted to convince him that there was a giant conspiracy against him. The world was out to get him.

 

“No it’s not,” he murmured and leaned against the shower wall. He could rationalise that things just happened to go the way they did and he knew logically he was being paranoid.

 

“I need to stop thinking about this.”

 

The foul smell of old booze seemed to have been amplified while he had been in the shower. He scrunched his nose at the smell and put the air conditioning up a notch in the hopes the smell would dissipate while he was gone.

 

He packed up a few things in a bag, took his morning medication, and then petted Cadence for the last time before heading out. He checked his phone at the door and saw it was only eight.

 

He knew he should have eaten something for a breakfast but even the idea nauseated him. So he promised himself he would pick up something later on. It didn’t hurt if he sometimes skipped breakfast.

 

The air outside had not yet reached the scorching temperatures it would surely reach later on that day. The morning sun was pleasantly warm with a fresh breeze bringing much needed oxygen to the otherwise still air. The morning traffic was at its peak and despite him not making his way into any busy streets he could still hear the humming of electric motors all the way to the park.

 

He stopped when he spotted a squirrel looking at him with hopeful eyes. He had not brought anything to feed the squirrels but it didn’t stop the small animals from exploring his empty hand when he knelt down.

 

One squirrel even bit into his left hand which sent a painful sensation even if it didn’t really manage to do anything but a small hole into his glove. The squirrel that had bit him looked at him with its head tilted to the side as if judging him. Then the disapproving squirrel dashed off to find another poor victim who might actually have something to feed to it.

 

The rest of the nosy squirrels took of one by one as well and Malik continued his travel towards his destination at Sicarius. There were still a few morning joggers at the park who were obviously trying to hurry before the suffocating heat would take over.

 

He wanted to go to the hospital building but his paranoia took the better of him and he entered the R&D building instead. The world was filled with cameras after all and even if it shouldn’t have been nothing special for a person to visit a hospital but for a person with an illegal body enhancement, everything was a risk.

 

He left his phone at the reception and took the stairs up until he reached the floor with the glass tube. The whole apartment seemed to be buzzing. It was probably because of the inspection. But it had nothing to do with him so he just kept going.

 

The hospital building was the most peaceful one out of three buildings. It made sense since there were people recuperating from operations that were sometimes quite hard.

 

The stench of antiseptic hovered in the air bringing unpleasant memories with it. It was here he had spent months after the crash. Initially he had been taken to a public hospital but Sicarius had quickly transferred him here.

 

Officially the surgeries in Sicarius had been able to save his arm. In reality his nerves had been damaged beyond repair and the muscles severed so badly that not even an extensive stem cell treatment would have saved them.

 

Because the Assassins had already invested so much time and money on him they fitted him with his bionic arm. To avoid the government constantly tracking his GPS location he had to stop doing sports and keep the thing secret.

 

He descended down a set of stairs that were accessible to only certain employees of Sicarius. A special set of keys had been given to those with the access and the entry way was monitored.

 

Motion sensor controlled lights lit up as he walked down, lighting up the path as he went until he reached the bottom which was brightly lit. The temperature was a couple of degrees cooler down there than in the upper part of the building.

 

It would have to be cooler here because there was an entire indoor sports arena. The blue track circled around the green fake grass where various equipment lay. It was the last place on Earth Malik could do sports.

 

The place had been built so that the engineers and scientists working in R&D could monitor top athletes in a controlled environment and make accurate models based on their observations. Those things were still conducted regularly but for the most part the arena served as practice place for the assassins.

 

Malik threw his bag on a bench at the side of the track. He stripped down to a sleeveless shirt and shorts before pulling on his trainers. His skin pricked up from the cool air but he knew he would be warm soon enough.

 

He performed some casual stretches to get his muscles warmed up a little bit but not so much that he would end up spraining something. It was always assuring to perform these things because it took him back to a time much more simpler than the one he was currently living.

 

Then he took off into a jog around the track.

 

It was still so early that nobody else was using the place. Most of the assassins were talented at sports but had given up their athletic career for one reason or the other. Though the reasons usually didn’t involve losing their arms.

 

Malik grimaced at the thought and quickened his pace.

 

The surface of the track impacted pleasantly against the sole of his shoes. He could practically feel how the circulation in his legs increased. It felt almost cathartic to move his body like this.

 

It was so much different from doing sit-ups at his home or using the small hand weights he had. To make his whole body move the way he wanted and to feel the energy contained inside himself being released was something only another athlete could understand.

 

He took into a proper run when he was feeling like his muscles were warm enough. So many endorphins was released at that moment and he could forget all of his previous problems. He just concentrated on the steady rhythm of his feet.

 

He couldn’t keep it up for all that long though so he had to slow down. There were those people who were all about endurance and those who were sprinters. He was a sprinter even if running had not been his specific sport.

 

He was now feeling warm and his breath had shortened. He slowed down even more until he was just walking but he wasn’t done yet as he headed inside the track and sat down in front of the pole vaulting pit on the runway leading to it.

 

It was where he always found himself in the end. He stretched his limbs and muscles, remembering how it had always amused Kadar. His brother said he was made out of noodles since he could bend so much. A small smile crept on his face at the memory.

 

After feeling sufficiently flexible he got up and walked to the big trolley on the side which held all the poles. He picked up one relatively flexible pole and then made his way back to the pole vaulting pit.

 

He set the tip of the pole into the box and leaned on it. Feeling pleased at how the pole bend under his weight he started walking backwards counting his strides as he went.

 

He stopped twenty strides away and set the pole to lean on his right shoulder.

 

He stared at the pole vaulting pit and the bar while rubbing his hands all over the pole. It was like a religious ritual for him and he knew the outcome already.

 

He took a firm hold of the pole and raised the tip over his eye level. Adrenaline burst into his veins in an anticipation of what was about to happen.

 

Then he dashed towards the pit. It seemed to so far away at first but suddenly the box was right there and he lowered the pole to meet the box.

 

And he released the pole and run straight into the thick padding where he collapsed on his stomach. He lost his faith at the last second. He always did.

 

Hugging his knees into his chest he silently cursed himself for not finding it in himself any longer.

 

He had not vaulted successfully ever since the accident. It had now been years upon years since that.

 

He used to have a promising career in sports laid in front of himself. It was the last thing in which people could cling to their old nationalities making it hugely popular but it wasn’t for that reason he found himself missing those days.

 

It was what it all represented for him.

 

He used to be at the top of his age group but since he was only a junior competitor he was very quickly forgotten into obscurity. When he concentrated fully on his other studies, including music, he was nothing special. The world was filled with child prodigies that could compose music comparable to that of the old geniuses.

 

It made him bitter because even if he had his arm registered, as it was supposed to be, he still couldn’t take part in sports competitions. It was absurd that the government thought it might bring him some kind of unfair advantage. He couldn’t even feel temperatures or make out the fine texture on things.

 

He extended his left arm and turned it so that he could watch the fingers flex and grip by his command. The whole thing felt so alien to him even if the fingers responded eagerly.

 

He didn’t know how long he stared in an almost trance-like state at his arm but he felt almost as if a lightning had struck him when he heard the scrape of someone picking up his pole from the ground. He jolted up to see who had snuck up on him.

 

Of course out of all the people who could have witnessed him in the miserable state he was it had to be Altaïr. Malik leaned on his knees with his arms as he tried to gauge how he should approach Altaïr at that very moment.

 

Altaïr didn’t acknowledge his presence and just carried the pole back to the trolley. Malik decided he wouldn’t bother acknowledging the man either so he just flopped back to the pad and stared up at the ceiling.

 

The lights were too bright from this angle, making him shield his eyes with his arm. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was doing any more but as his muscles started to slowly cool down he got up from the pad.

 

Altaïr was running on the track ignoring him. It wasn’t like they had anything to talk about or any reason to interact when they weren’t on the job. Somehow this too irritated him and yet he knew he would get annoyed if Altaïr actually talked to him too.

 

His feet took him almost against his will back to the track and into running. He wanted to get back to the feeling of losing himself to running.

 

Footsteps closed on him. Malik moved to run on an outer lane to make room for Altaïr to pass him but Altaïr didn’t pass him. The situation threw Malik’s thoughts out of their tracks and like a petulant child he started running faster in the hopes of leaving Altaïr behind.

 

But the jerk persisted and started running faster too. In response Malik dashed and for a while he managed to drop Altaïr off of his heels until his stamina run out and he had to slow down.

 

“I didn’t know you can sprint that fast,” Altaïr suddenly commented which left Malik wondering for a while if Altaïr was actually complimenting him in some backhanded way.

 

“I used to pole vault. Of course I can sprint,” and he had to restrain himself from shouting obscenities.

 

Altaïr sped up enough to run at his side but didn’t pass him. Malik attempted to concentrate on watching the track in front of him instead of giving Altaïr dirty glares. He was failing at his task spectacularly.

 

“Want to have a small race?” Altaïr challenged.

 

Malik stopped on his track and turned to face Altaïr who also stopped.

 

“I would be at a disadvantage and you know it. I don’t need you rubbing your superiority on my face while I’m trying to wind down,” Malik snapped. He hated losing and he wasn’t afraid to admit he was a sore loser.

 

“What are you even talking about?” Altaïr asked and looked utterly confused.

 

“You know full well what I am talking about.”

 

“Just a lap around the track and I’ll take the outside lane,” Altaïr attempted.

 

For whatever reason Altaïr really wanted to rope him into a competition with him and was even offering to handicap himself. Malik tried to detect the evil scheme Altaïr surely must have behind his suggestion, but he couldn’t find it.

 

“Fine. But we start from the middle and no starting blocks,” he found himself reluctantly agreeing. It was only two hundred meters around the track which was very much doable even if he wasn’t nearly in the shape Altaïr was.

 

Altaïr nodded in an agreement to Malik’s suggestion and they walked in silence to where the finish line was. For Malik’s surprise Altaïr actually took the third lane out instead of the second one which he had expected for him to choose.

 

There was a big clock on the wall which both of them nailed their eyes on.

 

“When the seconds hand hits twelve the next time,” Altaïr said and briefly glanced at Malik.

 

Malik counted the seconds in his head. His full body stiffened up like a steel spring with the nervous energy the situation was casting on him. It was the longest minute he remembered ever having experienced.

 

Suddenly they were off.

 

Altaïr was predictably much quicker to respond to the countdown and took the lead. Malik didn’t have any time to think about anything but how to make his limbs respond correctly. He concentrated all of his efforts on taking as strong strides as possible which would enable him to catch up and pass Altaïr.

 

In the curve he caught up and passed Altaïr. His triumph didn’t last all that long though because once they were back on the straight Altaïr caught up with him. He had to make a huge effort to keep up with Altaïr’s pace but in the bend he passed Altaïr once more.

 

Coming to the last thirty meters and they were neck to neck. Malik didn’t want to let Altaïr win this and he tried to find some miraculous reserve in himself to run just a little bit faster which probably messed up his form slightly but he didn’t care.

 

They crossed the line almost side by side and it wasn’t entirely clear which one had won since there was nobody else to see their race nor any cameras to record it. Malik slowed down to jogging feeling considerably exhausted after a spurt like that.

 

He was sure he would have to fight Altaïr once more to clarify who won the race. But Altaïr surprised him.

 

“I have no idea which one of us was first over the line. I say we call it a tie.” The infuriating smirk was there but the voice was for once devoid of the arrogance.

 

Malik just nodded as he couldn’t really think of anything to reply. He wasn’t used to Altaïr being like this and it confused him.

 

It was already ten thirty. Time always escaped him when he was exercising as he got so really into it.

 

He sat down to do his final stretches so he wouldn’t stiffen up later on. Then he hit the shower because he was sure the smell was terrible and he felt disgustingly sticky from all the perspiration. He would also want to change his clothes into something else before getting into any public place.

 

When he got out of shower he could see Altaïr practising his high jump and there were also hurdles set on the track. He knew Altaïr had a strict training regime on top of his natural ability but it didn’t help the sting of jealousy he felt.

 

But he wiped the thoughts out of his head and just tightened up his hold on his bag as he made it out of the underground track. He could still hear the faint thumps of Altaïr’s footsteps echoing on the walls.

 

He made sure he had his gloves on tightly before opening the door leading back to the ground level of the building.

 

The hot air hit him like a wall when he stepped through the door. It wasn’t actually all that hot in the building but the change in temperature was considerable enough to make him feel like he was suffocating before he could adjust to it.

 

A clock on the wall indicated it was ten minutes until his appointment. So he casually walked yet another flight of stairs up and then headed to one of the corridors there. It was quiet and peaceful there as he took a seat to be called in.

 

This part of the building had only doctor’s offices and no patient rooms or surgical theatres. There wasn’t all that much to be looked at so he settled to try and clear his mind while he waited.

 

The minutes passed painfully slow and he heard every single ticking of the clock on the far side of the corridor.

 

Then finally the door right in front of him opened and revealed a very pleased looking Rauf who gestured him to come in. He got up and followed the man inside.

 

Natural light poured in to the office from a window giving the room a pleasant not-too-harsh lighting. The seats had been rearranged sine the last time but he sat down on a chair and not on the many options ranging from a bean bag to a couch.

 

Rauf reached out to slightly touch him on the shoulder, and while he knew it was a trick to try and make him more connected, he really didn’t like it.

 

“How have you been, Malik?” Rauf asked and pulled his hand back.

 

Rauf had been recruited into the order around the same time as Malik had been but Rauf didn’t have it in himself to become an agent. It was quite soon discovered his natural ability to befriend pretty much anyone served better elsewhere. So he had become a psychiatrist and Malik had to visit him every Wednesday unless he was on a job.

 

“Fine. Nothing out of ordinary,” Malik lied.

 

There was no way for him ever actually confessing his inner demons to Rauf because Rauf was the one who held in his power to pull him out of work if he ever deemed him mentally unfit. There was no way he would allow that to happen. It was already enough that he had to fight over his place in the Order otherwise.

 

“No trouble with Altaïr?”

 

“Not more than usual.” Malik shrugged.

 

“Do you realise you are dealing with your situation with Altaïr extremely well. Most people wouldn’t be able to take on such a load as you did and stay sane.”

 

Malik had heard this already thousand times by now and he had to resist rolling his eyes. He had a suspicion that Rauf could sense something off about him which was why he kept trying to pry into it every time.

 

“I do what I am told to do and nothing more.”

 

The discussion then took a turn where Malik ended up discussing about his activities from yesterday with his friends. It always pleased Rauf when he told him he had been socialising and he could see the man scratching down notes into his notebook.

 

When the time was finally up Malik sighed in relief. But just as he was about to get up and leave Rauf stopped him.

 

“Malik. All of Altaïr’s actions may not be what they seem like. Try to consider the things from his perspective,” Rauf said calmly and touched him quickly on his left arm.

 

“What?”

 

“The boss sent the last mission report over to me. I don’t buy everything it says but I _know_ you are not the easiest man alive to deal with.” Rauf laughed slightly.

 

Malik hissed in anger before he could stop himself.

 

“I’ll see you next week then. Bye,” Malik said and gave a quick wave over his shoulder before leaving out.

 

He retraced his steps back to the front desk of the R&D building where he picked up his phone. He had a nervous unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach as he did so and he just wanted to get back home.

 

It was just a little bit over twelve when he checked the time from his phone before wrapping it back onto his wrist. He would go home, make himself lunch, practice his playing for a bit, and try and come up with something for Cadence.

 

Someone bumped into him slightly as he was deep in his thoughts fiddling with his phone while moving towards the exit.

 

Malik looked up and saw Altaïr who had a damp hair and sunglasses covering his eyes. Altaïr was picking up his phone just the same as he had.

 

And oddly enough they walked out of the door almost simultaneously. Malik cursed his luck under his breath but didn’t comment anything aloud. He just hoped Altaïr had some business elsewhere so he could conveniently get rid off his company.

 

But it wasn’t meant to be so and they walked in an awkward silence in their mutually awkward company while giving awkward glances at each other. Malik felt like he should say something but he just couldn’t think of anything that wasn’t either offensive or stupid.

 

“Sorry about Ezio,” Altaïr suddenly said.

 

Malik had to take a double take to make sure he was still in Altaïr’s company.

 

“What?”

 

Altaïr flashed an annoyed expression before clarifying “Ezio interrupting your evening yesterday. It seemed like a funny idea at the time.”

 

Malik shrugged in response. “Leonardo has the hots for the idiot so it wasn’t all bad.”

 

Altaïr snorted and smirked. He was clearly amused.

 

“That explains a lot then.”

 

“What do you mean?” Malik was now curious.

 

“Ezio gets his Eagle eyes calibrated twice a month by Leonardo while the rest of us have it only once a month. The explanation why has been at best times a dodgy one but Ezio is just convinced he’s so special that it needs to be like that.” Altaïr grinned clearly pleased by having some blackmail material over his cousin.

 

They were now walking at a leisurely pace through the park. A few squirrels ran up to them but soon scampered off when they realised they wouldn’t be getting anything from them.

 

It was a bizarre feeling of having a civilised conversation with Altaïr by his own free will. Malik wasn’t quite sure how he was supposed to handle the situation.

 

They fell into a silence for a while when Malik just couldn’t come up with anything to reply to Altaïr. He was too baffled by the situation to gather his wits properly.

 

“Why didn’t you vault today?” Altaïr asked, breaking the silence.

 

“You saw it?” And Malik was sure horrible gloating over his failure was about to follow which he already bristled against.

 

“I came to the track just as you sprinted. I recall I saw you once or twice in junior competitions back in the day so it surprised me to run through your jump today,” Altaïr answered and checked his phone at the same time.

 

“What is this? You aren’t going to tell me how shitty piece of a failure I am?” and the words escaped him before he could properly think them through.

 

He could see Altaïr raising his eyebrow even from behind the sunglasses.

 

“No.”

 

Malik sighed and gathered himself.

 

“I lost my faith. Mock me all you want but every time I try the result is the same.”

 

Altaïr poked him in his lower left arm “Is it because of this?”

 

“I don’t know. I don’t want to talk about it, okay?” Malik didn’t want to think about the whole ordeal involving his brother, his arm, and a car accident.

 

For his relief Altaïr backed off from his case and they were almost back at the apartment block. A sudden thought entered his mind.

 

“Could you...” Malik trailed off as he suddenly got really nervous about what he was about to propose.

 

Altaïr stopped in front of the doors and turned towards him.

 

“Could I what?”

 

“I just thought that if you could watch Cadence over the weekend while I’m on a job. Leonardo is having his parents over and Shaun is unable,” Malik said and felt his pulse getting faster.

 

“Cadence?” Altaïr questioned.

 

“My cat.”

 

Altaïr stared at him in disbelief.

 

“I didn’t know you had a cat.”

 

The comment jolted through Malik as he realised neither of them probably actually knew much about each other despite their working relationship.

 

“Yeah, he has bionic front legs and yes, I know how ironic that is. So please refrain from commenting on it,” Malik replied as Altaïr pushed the door open.

 

He could see a smug smile flashing through Altaïr’s expressions and he was sure it was from wanting to tease Malik over for having an amputee cat.

 

“Okay. So what do I have to do?” Altaïr answered and a mix of worry and relief washed over Malik.

 

They started going up the stairs as he explained how to take care of Cadence.

 

“So that’s it? That’s a piece of cake,” Altaïr concluded when they reached their floor.

 

“Yes. I’ll bring him over on Saturday and then pick him up Sunday evening. I will call to make sure he’s fine.” Malik eyed Altaïr threateningly.

 

Altaïr seemed to ignore his threats and started opening his door. Malik bit his lip in frustration.

 

“I owe you one.”

 

Altaïr looked surprised before his expression morphed into that of a satisfied grin.

 

“Yes, you do,” Altaïr replied and disappeared into his apartment, leaving Malik wondering if he had made the worst decision in his life for putting his trust on Altaïr.

 

He stared like a dimwit at Altaïr’s door for a while before he shook his head and unlocked his own door. He could hear Cadence furiously scratching at the communicating door so he pushed it open very gently to make sure the cat wouldn’t end up somehow getting hurt or escaping through the front door.

 

He threw his bag on the floor and removed his shoes before picking up Cadence who was meowing in a distinctly demanding way. The cat purred and nuzzled him.

 

“I was only gone for a while, you silly,” Malik cooed at the cat.

 

“You also want something to eat?”

 

He walked to the kitchen and set the cat on the counter. He petted the overly eager cat and searched for the cat food from his cabinets.

 

Cadence’s front paws made clicking sounds against the hard surface of the kitchen counter despite the rubber soles at the bottom of the cat’s feet. Cadence wasn’t exactly a stealthy cat but Malik was sure he was still a happy cat despite of it.

 

He set down Cadence’s food on the counter and petted him some more.

 

“I’m so sorry I need to leave you alone again.” But the cat just kept eating as if it was going to die of hunger.

 

He made a quick lunch for himself which he consumed quickly since he only realised how hungry he was after he had started cooking. All the exercising and skipping breakfast probably didn’t help in the matter.

 

Afterwards he was determined to do some playing exercises before he would run out of steam and before any of his neighbours would complain. So he picked up his cello case from his bedroom and pulled out one of the chairs in the kitchen.

 

He spent some time warming up his fingers and making sure his gloves sit his hands snugly. He would have preferred to play barehanded but it would give away the condition of his left hand.

 

Then he tightened up his bow before setting it against the strings but as he started running scales he didn’t like the sound at all so he stopped. He put the cello aside for a bit to fetch his rosin which he kept in one of the kitchen cabinets away from moisture and heat.

 

He applied the dark coloured rosin on the bow before giving it a try once more. This time he was content on the sound and he sighed in relief.

 

He started off with some easy things to get himself going. He had memorised everything he needed to play already a long time ago and he could recall the image of the notes in his mind with an ease. His hands worked in unison to produce the vibrant sounds that echoed off the poor acoustics of the house and travelled through the floor to probably every apartment around him.

 

He picked up the tempo as he switched into another piece. He made a mistake and cursed silently but corrected himself and continued. It went on like that for a long time. He would play flawlessly and just as he was starting to feel good about himself he would slip seemingly randomly.

 

His left hand couldn’t keep up with the demands of a fast paced sonata. He was frustrated and anxious by the end of his practice session as he cleaned up the rosin dust from his cello. He couldn’t perform like this on the weekend.

 

It was over three at that point and he had spent roughly two hours practising. He put the cello away carefully and paced around for a while.

 

“ _Leonardo, I need help_ ,” he sent a message hoping that Leonardo had already left work.

 

He was surprised when his doorbell rang just a few minutes after he had sent the message.

 

He looked through the peephole to see Leonardo smiling like a sunshine and he opened the door to let his friend in.

 

“What is it?” Leonardo asked and barged into his apartment.

 

“My hand. My playing isn’t working as it should.” Malik squeezed his left arm with his right hand to indicate the problem.

 

“For me it sounded just fine but I will take a look at it. Come to my lab tomorrow and bring your instrument with you so I can see what’s the problem and at least calibrate it,” Leonardo beamed.

 

“I made several slips. It was like my fingers were covered in glue and trying to stick to each other.”

 

“Your calibration was coming up in one of these days anyway so it could be just that,” and apparently Malik’s problems were some sort of puzzle for Leonardo to figure out judging by the focused yet enthusiastic expression.

 

“I hope it’s just that,” Malik replied and could feel his stomach turning at the thought of it being something else since he knew what the repercussions could be in worst case.

 


	4. The weight on his shoulders

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me updating this much quicker than the previous chapter! This is all within a reason :D
> 
> I humbly thank all of my supporters. It gives me warm and fuzzy feelings to know that there are people who enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it.
> 
> The next chapter will be much more exciting than this one hopefully! :D
> 
> DarthTofu is a precious person for having the patience to beta-read this!

The utter and complete dread Malik felt every time there was a hint of a problem with his left arm was something nearly impossible to be described. He could feel his stomach turning, hand sweating, and his thoughts created a swirl of emotions inside his head.

 

The cello case felt heavy as he gripped the handle with too much force while walking through the park. The sun was too hot on his neck and he could feel every soul turning to stare at him. He would constantly check if he had his shoelaces tied and all of his buttons done because a nagging feeling told him to do so.

 

His feet made too much noise against the gravel. He almost stumbled several times, making him even more nervous than he had been however that was even possible.

 

He had only this day and the next one to get his act together. The knowledge of working in such a constricted time frame didn’t help his anxiety one bit.

 

He was almost relieved to be out of the public eye as he reached the R&D building’s lobby where the annoyingly polite receptionist greeted him. He couldn’t stand looking at someone being so disgustingly happy as the receptionist was.

 

He gave up his phone and hurried to take the stairs up. The ascension to the third floor seemed like climbing Mount Everest as the invisible weight of all things that could be wrong or could go wrong just seemed to accumulate on top him.

 

The cello felt like it was made out of lead, weighing down every step he took.

 

Finally after an eternity of climbing the stairs he made it all the way to the Leonardo’s lab. He stood outside the door with his hand hovering over the door handle, scowling as he silently reprimanded himself for his indecision.

 

He felt torn. He wanted to know what was wrong but on the other hand he wanted to pretend everything was just fine. He feared for the worst and didn’t even dare to hope for anything good. All of his thoughts were consumed by the worst case scenario.

 

He had not been able to sleep properly the previous night as he had kept seeing the worst case scenario repeated in his head. They would cut out his arm and leave him one armed because his body had started rejecting this one despite the organ transplant rejection drugs.

 

He had worked himself up into such a state that his hands had been shaking in the morning as he had tried to hold his teacup. The rattling of the spoon against the porcelain did nothing to help his nerves.

 

In the end he came to the conclusion he wouldn’t be able to go about, making stupid mistakes because of his fingers not moving the way he wanted. And he knew he wouldn’t be able to live in ignorance.

 

He pushed the door open with one swift motion. The hinges let out a loud wail which he swore was there to just to make him even more uncomfortable than he already was.

 

Leonardo greeted him immediately as he stepped inside the dimly lit room. His friend was wearing his lab coat for once though the ratty clothes could still be easily seen underneath the open coat. But it did give him more professional appearance.

 

“Come and sit down here,” Leonardo ordered him kindly and pushed Malik slightly from his shoulder while pointing towards a chair next to a table filled up with complicated machinery.

 

Malik sat down feeling slightly confused by the cheerful manner Leonardo was regarding him. He had been so focused on being completely doomed while on his way there that now that he was facing Leonardo’s usual demeanour it threw him off.

 

“Roll up your sleeves. I’ll take some blood from you before we start,” and oddly enough Leonardo rolled up his own sleeves as well. It would have amused Malik any other time.

 

It was standard procedure before any maintenance work to make sure biological responses were normal and not interfering with the body enhancements. The nerve endings connecting to the synthetic materials as well as the attachment points inside the person were very susceptible for changes in hormones or even immune response. Malik was all too familiar with the latter one.

 

But he just diligently rolled up his sleeves so that Leonardo had a full access to his left arm and that the front of his elbow was exposed from his right one. He also took off his gloves and set them on the table.

 

“This might sting a little.”

 

Malik closed his eyes and just took deep breaths. He didn’t particularly enjoy the sight of a needle disappearing underneath his skin so he chose not to look.

 

He could feel a small pinch as the needle punctured his skin but it was more like an irritation instead of pain. He gripped the side of the table with his left hand to give himself something else to focus on.

 

“I find it comical that someone in your profession is afraid of needles,” Leonardo jested in an obvious attempt to lighten the mood.

 

“I am not afraid of them. I just don’t like how it looks. It’s unnatural.”

 

Everything today seemed to take ages and this one wasn’t an exception. By the time Leonardo was done collecting his blood sample Malik wanted to scream in frustration.

 

He watched with disinterest, while holding a small piece of cotton against the small puncture, as Leonardo put the blood sample inside one of the several machines on the table. He knew it would return the results for his blood work in a bit and he dreaded for it.

 

“Now that that’s sorted we can get to the best part,” Leonardo beamed. Obviously the prospect of getting to fiddle with the insides of his arm excited him.

 

Malik rolled his eyes but lifted his arm on the table while Leonardo rolled out yet another piece of equipment. It was an ultrasound machine used to check for structural integrity because for obvious reasons he couldn’t be scanned with an MRI and CAT scan wouldn’t have fit into the lab. If the ultrasound showed something to be worried about then he would send for better quality pictures elsewhere.

 

The gel that needed to make the ultrasound work felt ice cold against his skin. It also made him want to scratch his upper arm because the evaporating liquid gave him an itch.

 

“I hate this stuff,” he complained.

 

Leonardo chuckled as he retrieved the ultrasound sensor. “You hate everything.”

 

The sensation of having the sensor pressed against the cool gel and his skin was an odd one and made shivers run up and down his spine. His skin pricked up and he realised he was holding his breath for a while.

 

A picture appeared on the screen. He could see the attachment points where his bionic arm was fused up and bolted down to his bone. The picture was several times bigger than the actual thing and it looked so alien to see inside his own arm. No matter how many times he had seen it, it still left him with a feeling of detachment like he was observing someone else’s arm and not his own.

 

Yet the evidence that it in fact was his own arm was right in front of him as he tilted his head back down and looked at Leonardo moving the sensor around slightly on top of his arm. Leonardo seemed to be completely focused on his task and paid no attention for Malik’s wandering eyes.

 

“Everything is as it should be here,” Leonardo summed up and removed the sensor away from his arm. Then he handed Malik a towel so he could wipe away the gel.

 

“At least I don’t need to have my arm spliced up then.” Malik rubbed his upper arm to relieve the itch while Leonardo put away the equipment.

 

“Yes. I imagine it being a very unpleasant experience.” Leonardo patted him on the back.

 

Leonardo fussed around with the ultrasound machine before almost carelessly pushing it away. Malik tapped his fingers impatiently against the hard surface of the table.

 

“Turn your arm up so I can remove the outer shell,” Leonardo said and pointed at him with a screwdriver.

 

Malik obeyed but couldn’t resist talking back a little, “It’s the 22nd century. You would think the tools were more advanced than an old rusty screwdriver.”

 

Leonardo chuckled.

 

“Would you have me poking the locking mechanisms with needles or what?”

 

Leonardo slid the screwdriver between two plates covering the innards of his arm and with a quick flick unlocked them. He carefully removed the thin plates and set them on the table.

 

Only his hand had the pressure sensors so having the outer plating removed elsewhere didn’t cause any kind of sensation. It was just simply odd to see the inner workings moving about when he moved his fingers or twitched his wrist.

 

“I will now disable the nerves,” Leonardo warned and carefully reached inside with another screwdriver.

 

Malik nodded in response and just waited for the inevitable. He knew immediately when Leonardo had hit the switches when his arm and fingers went completely limp.

 

But unlike the fingers in a limp hand which are curled ever so slightly, his simply hit the table with a quiet metallic noise and were completely straight. There were no tendons to pull the muscles and there were no muscles to relax. All his arm was comprised of was small motors controlled by varying voltage fed through contactors, capacitors, amplifiers, and finally very small oscillators.

 

“Staring murderously at your hand won’t do anything.” Leonardo laughed and waved several small crocodile clips on his hands.

 

Malik squeezed his right hand into a fist.

 

“Maybe but it doesn’t hurt either,” Malik replied and shrugged.

 

Leonardo clipped on all the wires which lead to a very advanced multimeter with a large digital screen. Then he checked the connection points one more time.

 

“I’m going to switch the nerves back on.”

 

Malik braced himself against the sensation as well as he could but he still jerked as the jolt run through from the tips of his fingers to his spine. The lingering tingling sensation refused to leave him for several minutes afterwards while Leonardo continuously switched between different modes of his multimeter.

 

“I think this might be the longest tingles I’ve ever had,” Malik commented while flexing his fingers in an effort to get rid off the sensation.

 

“But at least it means your nerves have connected properly. Now hold still while I measure the resistance.”

 

Malik ceased the movement of his fingers and stared at the various numbers on the screen. All the numbers seemed rather uniform which was a good thing since none of the conductors were different from the others.

 

“Close and open your fist slowly,” Leonardo ordered him while not taking his eyes out of the numbers.

 

The numbers on the screen changed rapidly indicating the differences in resistance as he moved his fingers. The changes may have seen at a first glance to be very big but he knew Leonardo had scaled them up for easier comparison.

 

“So how is it?” he asked impatiently.

 

Leonardo brushed a stray strand of hair behind his ear before answering, “So far it all seems rather normal. I can’t detect any great fluctuations but I want you to move each of your fingers separately before I can be sure.”

 

Malik sighed. He couldn’t help but feel that everything was going way too slowly and that Leonardo had not found anything out of normal didn’t make him feel any better.

 

He grit his teeth and started moving his fingers separately. He started from his thumb and progressed towards his pinky, while peeking at Leonardo’s reaction every once in a while. But there wasn’t much of a reaction to be seen.

 

“That’s enough of that,” Leonardo said and waved over his shoulder to indicate Malik to stop.

 

“So?” Malik asked.

 

“Only one of them is giving slightly different kind of response. I wouldn’t be all that worried about it though but I will tune it for you because I know you won’t let me be otherwise.” Leonardo poked him in the shoulder and Malik shrugged to get rid off the unwanted gesture.

 

“It doesn’t have to be a big thing for it to ruin my playing,” Malik replied.

 

Leonardo rummaged through a drawer for something.

 

“I think you are just being too hard on yourself,” Leonardo said and re-emerged with a pair of goggles and an almost needle thin screwdriver.

 

Malik snorted. “Hardly.”

 

“I’ll disable your arm once again so I can attach the calibration equipment,” was all the warning Leonardo gave him before his hand crashed on the table once more.

 

Leonardo put on the goggles which made him look like a cartoon character of a mad scientist. The purpose of them was to magnify the impossibly small components such as the miniscule adjustable resistors and oscillators which were the ones responsible for changing the frequency of the sine wave and the resistance, making fluid movements possible.

 

Basically it all boiled down to converting digital information into analogue and then vice versa since the human body wasn’t meant to process only zeroes and ones. On the other hand even the most advanced technological constructions had hard time understanding analogue signals and something that had to be packed into such a small containers such as an arm definitely didn’t have the power to do so.

 

Leonardo worked with deft hands as he bowed down to work on the insides of Malik’s arm once more. Malik found himself holding his breath as he knew how critical this part of the entire process was. The conductors inside his arm were jam packed, small, and very easy to accidentally connect together with a careless sweep of a tool and even if the power was currently cut off from them the capacitors always held some current which could discharge and fry everything.

 

It was a relief when Leonardo straightened back up and gave him a small smile.

 

“Now I’ll just hit the calibration machine on and we wait while it feeds different voltages to the components and makes adjustments according to the response in resistance. Then afterwards I want you to play while I monitor the multimeter just to make sure everything is fine,” Leonardo explained and pushed the goggles so that they rested on his forehead.

 

Malik couldn’t feel a thing happening but he could see the numbers changing on the multimeter’s screen which indicated the differences in resistance and voltage. The calibration machine used a forking method where it started from big voltages and small resistances which would have meant large crude movements if his arm were connected and scaled it step by step until there was hardly any voltage but large resistance left.

 

“What are you doing today?” Malik asked while the machine did its job.

 

“Work?” Leonardo answered and looked confused.

 

“I mean after work.” Malik rolled his eyes.

 

“I’m going out with someone.” Leonardo grinned.

 

“With whom?” Malik asked suspiciously and narrowed his eyes to study his friend better.

 

“Just with someone I met.” Leonardo tried to wave the whole thing off.

 

“You don’t get out and you were pining after Ezio just the other day.”

 

“Oh look! The calibration is done!” Leonardo hurried to change the subject though annoyingly enough the machine started beeping right at that moment like some sort of infernal kitchen appliance with a timer, indicating it had reached the end of the program.

 

Leonardo put his goggles back on and without bothering to explain any further his doings he took out the connectors for the calibration machine and switched Malik’s arm on. Malik groaned from the surprise when the nerves reconnected.

 

“You could have warned me you were about to turn them back on!”

 

Leonardo laughed at him though there was no ill intention.

 

“I thought you would know from your past experiences that it would be the next thing to follow.”

 

“You are an ass.”

 

Leonardo seemed to just bounce off the insult and went to pick up Malik’s cello case. They needed to be careful not to pull off any of the several wire leads going into Malik’s arm so the amount of time and effort they put into getting Malik ready to play was an extraordinary one.

 

Malik positioned the instrument carefully and avoided getting the wires tangled on the head of the cello. Somehow he managed in the task even though it was slightly uncomfortable.

 

“Why don’t you have a carbon fibre or aluminium cello instead of that museum instrument?” Leonardo asked while handing Malik his bow.

 

Malik frowned at the question and looked down at the beautiful red tinted wood of his instrument.

 

“I am a classical player. I play a classical instrument,” he answered and run the bow over the strings for a few experimental tries before starting to play a few scales.

 

“Arno has a carbon fibre violin and I think it sounds just the same as a wooden one.” Leonardo shrugged and leaned on the table casually.

 

“For an amateur they would sound the same, but for trained ear they are completely different,” he said before tuning out Leonardo and launching into a proper cello sonata.

 

He started off slow to get a feeling of how his newly calibrated fingers felt like and to warm himself up. The wires hanging from his left arm occasionally brushed against the neck of the cello but he got used to that sensation rather quickly.

 

The lab was sound proof and the vibrations and sounds didn’t echo of the walls too much and he could hear the pure sound of his playing. The numbers on the multimeter screen danced to the rhythm of his fingers moving around on the strings.

 

Then he sped up and the multimeter went wild from his quick movements on the neck of the cello. He could feel the power running through his arms and though his bow into the strings creating vibrant sounds just like the ones he had envisioned beforehand.

 

He slipped up only once during the course of his playing and once he stopped he had completely forgotten he was in Leonardo’s lab, his arm full of wires, and nobody but the tune deaf friend of his to hear his playing. He had been so engrossed in his playing.

 

“That was marvellous!” Leonardo complimented him and hurried to take his cello.

 

“Yeah, it was much better than yesterday. I knew there was something wrong with the fingers,” he replied and flexed his fingers in an effort to examine them as if he could tell the difference by just looking.

 

“Hmmm. I wonder about that,” Leonardo wondered and reached to examine Malik’s arm.

 

Malik looked at Leonardo with scrutiny, trying to decipher the meaning behind the words. But he could not find anything but Leonardo’s concentrated expression while the engineer turned his arm slightly from side to side in his hands.

 

He was just about to ask what Leonardo meant with his words when Leonardo smiled at him and said, “I could check out the contactors just in case and clean up the nanotubes at the end of your fingertips just to make sure everything is as it should be.”

 

Malik had no reason to object and he simply nodded to indicate his consent. It was a good thing Leonardo took his plight seriously.

 

“I’m switching it off again.”

 

His arm dropped on the surface of the table like a dead fish. Malik sighed and watched Leonardo took off the crocodile clips carefully. The clips and the wires were discarded rather carelessly all around the table as they came off.

 

Then Leonardo put his goggles back on and started prodding the insides of his arm with a screwdriver once more. Malik could hear a few barely audible clicks when Leonardo triggered the contactors manually.

 

“It would seem that a few of the contact elements would benefit from a clean up just to ensure a proper connection,” Leonardo commented while already reaching for some tools from the table.

 

A tiny steel brush and some cleaning agent were all that was needed to clean them up though the work was very meticulous. Malik stared at the proceedings with a want of wanting to aid but there was nothing he could do.

 

Then Leonardo set aside the tools, adjusted his goggles so that he could properly view the nanotubes at Malik’s fingers. The nanotubes would push down very small pressure sensors inside the hand as they came into a contact with something, creating the sense of a feeling as close to the real thing is technologically possible. Unfortunately it also meant that for a person who was so dependent on the sense of a feeling as Malik was there simply was no physical room for temperature sensors.

 

“You know if you weren’t so troublesome I would design a better arm for you,” Leonardo said while he turned on a small electric tool that made a low whizzing voice.

 

“Really?” Malik answered out of politeness because he didn’t want to reveal how much he didn’t want to change anything about his current setup. He didn’t like changes even one bit and he could still remember as clear as a day how much physical rehabilitation it had taken him to learn to use this one. In a weird sense he was attached to his arm on an emotional level so even if a chance to upgrade would arise he would not do it.

 

“Yeah. Much has changed since this prototype arm of yours and all these workings are standard procedure but much more refined, leaving more room for other things. The body enhancements these days employ small circuits that predict the user’s movements even before the signal has been sent from the brains making the response time much more faster than what you have,” Leonardo explained while at the same time cleaning the nanotubes.

 

“But the response time in this one is as fast as my real arm’s.”

 

Leonardo smirked and Malik could only imagine the smug upward turn of his eyebrows behind the goggles.

 

“But it would make it better than your real arm and imagine having two such arms. The possibilities are endless when people would be able to move and respond much faster than they currently are.”

 

Malik frowned.

 

“ _Would be_? So they are not put to use then?”

 

“No. We are forbidden from the higher up to install them on the civilians and you are the only assassin with such a glaring body enhancement for obvious reasons.” Leonardo moved to another finger.

 

Malik tried to understand the underlying reasoning behind the decision.

 

“Why? I thought part of the Order’s ideology was to advance the human condition?”

 

Leonardo shrugged slightly but his hands didn’t waver from the task and nor did his eyes.

 

“It’s hard to say why but from what I’ve gathered from Shaun there haven’t been much of common folk coming in to get body enhancements from us. He suspects the prices are so out of reach an ordinary citizen cannot afford them.”

 

Malik scowled. What Leonardo was insinuating even if he was not wording it directly was disturbing.

 

He remembered from his time in the hospital a girl with a bone cancer who had lost her leg and had gotten it replaced by a bionic one. The girl’s parents had been ordinary blue collar workers who definitely couldn’t have afforded such an expensive piece of an equipment if it wasn’t Sicarius’ company diplomacy to provide affordable body enhancements.

 

“Then what makes us any different from any other body enhancement company out there?” Malik questioned.

 

Leonardo stopped, took off his goggles, and set aside his tools before answering. “I suppose if we strictly speak about the legal business we aren’t any different.” Leonardo picked up a screwdriver and waved it in warning for Malik that he was about to switch the connections back on.

 

“But that’s not what the Creed is about,” Malik replied while anticipating the shock.

 

“I have to agree with you,” Leonardo said just as the electric current coursed through Malik’s arm.

 

Despite the extraordinarily powerful tingling sensation Malik got up and picked up his cello once more. He wanted to try the effects immediately.

 

As he settled his fingers on the strings he could already feel a significantly better feedback from them. The cleaning had obviously helped a lot.

 

Then he launched into a fast paced piece to try out and push himself to the limit.

 

Everything worked just the way it was supposed to. He felt elevated. The sounds created by his perfectly working hands formed a wonderful cello sonata, launching his mind into the seventh heaven.

 

Somewhere a door opened but he barely registered it that was until someone asked, “I hope I’m not interrupting anything?”

 

Malik stopped like he had hit a wall. He turned to look who was the third person who had entered the room and saw Ezio.

 

Malik glanced murderously at Leonardo who just smiled and shrugged.

 

“No, no! We are almost done here so if you would wait for a bit,” Leonardo hurried to explain and motioned Ezio to take a seat.

 

Malik got up and walked the small distance to where his cello case was laying on the floor. He picked up a cleaning cloth from the case and set down his bow. While he was cleaning up his cello he watched Leonardo desperately try to flirt with Ezio who on turn was oblivious to all of Leonardo’s cues.

 

When he was pleased with the cleanliness of his instrument he packed everything up and went to get Leonardo so he could have the outer plating of his arm replaced. He suddenly felt the urge to leave the lab as quickly as he could.

 

He could hear Ezio humming something in the background while Leonardo gave heavy sighs. Malik rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything.

 

Once the plating was back on his arm he ran his hand over it to feel the seams. It felt cool and smooth against his hand.

 

“I still need to look at the blood work. So don’t disappear quite yet,” Leonardo said and went to one of the several monitors in the room.

 

“They opened up a new coffee shop nearby. We should go there afterwards,” Ezio said, aiming his words towards Leonardo.

 

Malik’s brain stopped working for a while when he tried to understand the situation. Leonardo had somehow managed to actually invite Ezio for a date?

 

“Ooh! I would love to!” Leonardo beamed at Ezio while making his way back towards Malik who was just about ready to flee the room.

 

“He is your date?” Malik whispered to Leonardo once they were close to each other.

 

Leonardo smiled at him apologetically. “I did say every man is bi until proven otherwise.”

 

“I think it was ‘No man is straight until proven otherwise’,” Malik argued.

 

“That’s semantics,” Leonardo whispered and waved his hand.

 

“He’s an asshole.”

 

“A good looking asshole. I can’t help myself.”

 

Malik rolled his eyes. Leonardo cleared his throat.

 

“Anyway, your blood work came back normal except for your cortisol levels which are abnormally high even for you,” Leonardo spoke with normal volume.

 

“Is that so?” Malik replied. He wasn’t all that surprised by the results.

 

“Have you been under stress more than usual?” Leonardo asked.

 

“Not really,” Malik answered even though it wasn’t true. He wasn’t going to admit anything as long as the Italian part of the asshole trio was in the room.

 

“I probably don’t have to explain to you how having high cortisol levels can affect your condition.”

 

“No. I am fully aware of the possible results of it,” and he was too. Having high stress hormone levels could mean that the body could turn against itself. In minor cases it would be some rash or other allergic symptoms and in the worst case an autoimmune disease.

 

But he wasn’t all that afraid of those options rather than suddenly having his arm fall off.

 

“Good. I’ll see you around then,” Leonardo patted him in the back.

 

“Good to have seen you, Malik,” Ezio greeted him.

 

“The feeling is not mutual,” Malik said and picked up his cello case. Ezio just laughed at his remark.

 

“I’ll see you around, Leonardo,” he said and waved a goodbye before heading out the door.

 

The relief he felt as he stepped outside the lab was an overwhelming one. Despite the slightly alarming blood works he was now fixed and could just go on about his things like he normally did. His arm wasn’t going to fall off and he wasn’t going to end up hospitalised again.

 

A clock on the wall told him it was almost twelve. He decided to skip lunch in favour of meeting Lucy who would give the details of his mission for him.

 

For that he needed to go to the administrative building since Lucy was Al Mualim’s personal assistant. In practice it meant that Lucy was the one to inform the Assassins about their missions on a practical level.

 

He threw the cello case, which now felt hundred times lighter than it had felt before he had entered the lab, over his shoulder and started towards the stairs leading up. He almost skipped the stairs up with his feet feeling light.

 

The sounds of people working on the fourth floor filled up the atmosphere. He could slip through the floor and through the glass tube connecting the two buildings without anyone paying any attention to him.

 

The people just worked in their small office cubes not even taking their eyes of their work as he passed them in the administrative building. The sounds of people typing off on their computers and clicks could be heard everywhere. A few times he almost collided with a page that would have been sent off to deliver some important information.

 

He made it to the stairs once more and started climbing them. He reached the seventh floor which was one of the off-limit zones for anyone else but those with authorisation. It would have to be since so much sensitive information was stored there.

 

It was quiet there but not in an intrusive way. It was simply quiet because the doors leading to the offices on the floor were shut and no sound let alone the quiet hum of the air conditioner could be heard. The thick carpet on the floor blocked any footsteps echoing uncomfortably.

 

Lucy’s office seemed to be occupied as he approached it. So he sat down on a chair next to the door, waiting for his turn.

 

He didn’t have to wait for all that long when the door opened, revealing a rather flustered and surprised Desmond. Malik narrowed his eyes.

 

“Uh. Hi, Malik,” Desmond greeted and all but ran away from the scene, leaving Malik wondering what was going on.

 

“You may come in. I was expecting you,” Lucy said and smiled faintly.

 

Malik got up and followed her inside, where he set aside his cello for the time being.

 

The office was a large one but it didn’t have any windows. Everywhere there were file cabinets and bookshelves lined up with documents. A single barely alive house plant sat at the corner of the desk along with a monitor and a keyboard.

 

“Is Desmond finally being sent out for his second mission?” he asked and sat down on the opposite side of Lucy.

 

“No.”

 

“Then why was he here if—”

 

Lucy gave him a warning glare which made him shut up. Then she pulled out an old map which she unrolled on the desk.

 

“We had hard time securing this map and it will be destroyed afterwards. The documents are from the 1950s and the digitalised copies are stored in a place that would rouse suspicion if we were to access them so we had to send an agent to get these straight from the Düsseldorf city library.”

 

Malik eyed the map with interest and then ran his hand on the surface of it, memorising the layout in his head. He needed to learn every single detail about it if he were to succeed.

 

“The target will meet up with his group in a restaurant in the building next to this one,” Lucy said and rolled out another map.

 

“They have a private booking there from eight until ten. It means they have one of the floors entirely for themselves though we are not sure which one. You need to find it,” she said sternly.

 

Malik ran his fingers on the layout of the other building as well. He pictured the two buildings in his mind trying to figure out the best position to approach the situation.

 

“And the target?” Malik asked.

 

Lucy slapped a photograph of a man in his forties on the table. The man had an almost comical moustache and was clearly of Mediterranean origin.

 

“Jubair al Hakim, however the man was not born with that name and only took it to protect his identity as a Spanish rebel fighter. He is planning an uprising to separate Spain from rest of the Europe and needs to be eliminated to send a message to all of his followers.”

 

Malik picked up the photograph and burned the picture into his mind before setting it down on top of the maps. If he closed his eyes he could now picture vividly the entire scene in his head. Jubair would be dining with his friends and discussing their rebellion. The only thing missing was the way he would be killed.

 

It was painfully obvious why this particular mission was handed to him and not to Desmond or the Frye twins. It required a very particular skill only two Assassins were trained in and the other one of the Assassins with that skill was currently blacklisted.

 

“You want me to snipe him from the other building while he’s dining with his friends?” He tapped on the forehead of the man on the picture to accentuate his point.

 

“Yes,” Lucy confirmed and nodded slightly.

 

Lucy stood up from the table and walked to a locked cabinet in one of the corners of the room. Malik traced the lines on the map while picturing a vivid mental picture of the situation into his head. Somebody had marked all the surveillance equipment, fire escapes, air ducts, and even fuse boxes on the map and he took it all in.

 

He needed a fool proof plan for this to succeed and not be caught in the process. The police would be investigating the site in a matter of minutes and he couldn’t be seen anywhere near the place by the time they arrived.

 

A lightly build sniper rifle was dropped in front of him obstructing his view to the maps. A small box of ammunition followed soon behind.

 

“You know what to do with this,” Lucy said and put her hands behind her back like an army general might.

 

“Yes,” he replied and started disassembling the weapon.

 

The process of disassembling and assembling a sniper rifle was like a second nature to him and his hands worked without much conscious effort put behind them. The rifle came apart in a matter of minutes.

 

Then he pulled his cello case to the table and carefully hid all the parts within the thickly padded backside of it. It had been specially made so that it could hold an entire sniper rifle inside it.

 

Civilians weren’t allowed to have firearms unless it was for hunting or sport purposes and even then getting the permits were behind a difficult process. There was absolutely no reason for anyone to have a sniper rifle let alone walk around with it in public.

 

Shooting the rebel leader would no doubt cause massive uproar in the media.

 

“Do you want to use the shooting range?” Lucy asked him when he was just zipping up his case.

 

Malik shook his head.

 

“No. I don’t think I need to.” He knew the familiar feeling of holding the rifle would return to him like a traveller returning to home just as soon as he would pick it up from the cello case. It had been so ingrained into him at a young age and it was one of the few things he ever received praise for during his training as a novice.

 

“Very well then. Is there something else you need to know or do you need more time to memorise the maps?”

 

“I’m fine. Thank you.”

 

“The boss expects your report on Monday. Do not let the Order down,” Lucy warned him.

 

Malik excused himself out of the office with a case that weighed significantly more than it had before entering it. But it wasn’t so much the weight of the weapon inside rather than the weight of the responsibility he felt.

 

 


	5. Malik's five seconds of fame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I got really sick and the illness didn't want to leave me for a over a week. I was way too delirious to actually write anything but when I finally got into writing things it was almost Christmas already. It turns out taking breaks from writing doesn't really help at all and in my case actually regresses writing. Luckily I'm back in the business and the next chapter is already works.
> 
> Beta read by Darth-Tofu!
> 
> Also a hundred thanks to all my readers! I am trying my best to deliver an interesting story and it's always motivating when I get such good feedback as I seem to get from this story :)

Altaïr’s door felt like a massive barrier as Malik stared at it. There was a pile of things on the floor belonging to Cadence who just lazily hung on Malik’s arms without any worry in the world.

 

Malik on the other hand had more than enough worry for the both of them. He was starting to second guess his choices but it was too late to take things back now. Somehow the Saturday had come way too soon and he wanted to figure out a different solution.

 

He couldn’t believe he was about to give Cadence to Altaïr to care for.

 

He breathed in deep before reaching to push the doorbell.

 

Cadence purred loudly and Malik gave the cat an absent-minded scratch.

 

It took almost a minute for Altaïr to come and open the door, and even then the door was lazily pushed open just enough to reveal Altaïr’s dishevelled form. It was obvious that Altaïr had just woken up and it wasn’t just because of the embarrassing pink boxers he was wearing but from the way he kept blinking and rubbing his eyes. The yawning also was a bit of a giveaway.

 

“Good morning,” Malik was the first one to greet.

 

Altaïr eyed Malik and then the things on the floor, looking utterly confused for a while. Malik frowned. Had Altaïr forgotten his promise?

 

“Does one cat really need all these things?” Altaïr asked.

 

“Yes. Unless you prefer him peeing on your couch, eating from your plates, and drinking water straight from the tap,” and he had to bite down the insults that were about to escape him out of habit.

 

Cadence meowed, drawing both of their eyes on the cat. Cadence was trying to reach for Altaïr with one of his front paws for whatever reason.

 

“He really does have bionic front legs.”

 

Malik rolled his eyes.

 

“I did say so, didn’t I?”

 

“I thought you were joking.” Altaïr shrugged and Malik wanted to strangle him.

 

“Look, I’m on a schedule here. Help me get these things inside your apartment,” Malik said and tried not to be rude but also wanted to get things done.

 

Altaïr didn’t make a move from where he stood in the doorway. Malik had a feeling they would be standing there staring each other awkwardly forever if it was up to Altaïr. He didn’t have time for childish mind games.

 

“Please,” Malik relented and it seemed to do the trick as Altaïr flashed a smug smile and leaned down to pick the things from the floor.

 

He followed Altaïr inside the apartment where he was expecting to be a horrible clutter and mess. It wasn’t. It was clean and tidy much the same way his own apartment was. The only way to really tell it was Altaïr’s apartment was from an assortment of decorations that were so obviously of Altaïr’s choosing.

 

He set Cadence down on the floor and petted the cat’s back. He couldn’t help but feel horrible for leaving the poor thing with Altaïr for the duration of the weekend.

 

Cadence on the other hand wasn’t feeling bad at all and started carefully exploring the apartment immediately. Malik looked on at the sight in worry before turning his attention to Altaïr who seemed to be at a loss with what to do with Cadence’s things.

 

“You need to clean up his litter box immediately after he’s used it. Cadence doesn’t like dirty litter box,” Malik explained as he saw Altaïr eyeing the small shovel with suspicion.

 

“What if I’m not around when he decides to pee? Will he ruin my furniture or what?” Altaïr asked.

 

“No. Don’t be ridiculous. Just do it when you get back home,” Malik explained as Altaïr set down the small shovel to the bag where he had taken it from.

 

“Also, keep food and water available for him at all times. Don’t feed him the same food twice in a row or he will attempt to hide the food. You don’t want to find cat food in between your cushions,” Malik explained and pretty much ended up repeating everything he had already once told Altaïr before but he couldn’t help but try and hammer down how important this all was.

 

Altaïr looked utterly uninterested in his explanation and seemed to be more fascinated in watching Cadence climb on his couch and sniff his curtains. Horrible bright red curtains Malik noted and a part of him hoped Cadence would climb them and bring down.

 

“Aren’t you on a schedule?” Altaïr interrupted him. He obviously wanted Malik out of his apartment and while Malik didn’t really want to linger, and he really was on a schedule, he also wanted to make sure Altaïr would treat Cadence properly.

 

“I am. But this is important.” Malik hurried to scoop up Cadence once more before leaving.

 

He gave the cat a hug which wasn’t really appreciated all that much since he had interrupted Cadence’s exploring.

 

“I’m going to pick you up tomorrow, okay? Behave nicely,” he cooed at the cat not caring in the least if Altaïr thought he was being stupid for talking like that to his cat. Then he set Cadence back on the floor and looked slightly offended before going to sit by Altaïr’s leg. The traitor.

 

“I’ll call you tonight to make sure everything is okay,” Malik warned Altaïr who just seemed to shrug off his words.

 

He left the apartment reluctantly still fearing he might have done a horrible mistake. Even while picking up his things from his own apartment horrible scenarios of what could go wrong flashed through his mind.

 

He wasn’t even that worried that Altaïr might do something for the cat but that Altaïr might invite over his friends and a drunken Ezio would fall on Cadence and kill him by accident. Who knew what might happen if the asshole trio was involved.

 

He threw a bag containing his clothes over his shoulder and picked up the cello case. He didn’t need much to survive the weekend and he was so used to travelling he didn’t overpack.

 

Then he scanned his apartment for the last time before shutting the lights and leaving.

 

He stopped outside his door to listen for any suspicious sounds coming from Altaïr’s apartment but he could not detect any. Somehow he couldn’t decide if he was relieved or not.

 

Walking down the stairs had never felt so difficult as it did now. If there had been a choice he wouldn’t have left at all. But there was no choice if he wished to keep on working in the Brotherhood and so he had to leave his cat to be taken care by the most careless person in the world.

 

A small grey car was waiting for him right outside the apartment block. The next two and a half hours would be spent sitting inside it, trying not to die of heart attack whenever he would see a lorry on the road. It would be a miserable car ride.

 

He opened the boot and carefully put his cello case inside before throwing his bag in. The boot could barely fit his things despite him not having much with him but the cello case took so much space and the boot was so small.

 

He cursed slightly as he made his way to the front of the car. He almost walked to the passenger’s side since that was where he usually sat when he was with Altaïr. It had been such a long time since he had been on a solo mission.

 

The inside of the car smelled strongly of a citrus scented air freshener which he was sure was going to make him feel nauseated sooner or later. At least Altaïr didn’t use some sickening scents in his car even if he was a complete dick otherwise.

 

“Good morning Mr. Al-Sayf,” the female voice of the car greeted him.

 

He told the car the address to his hotel and cranked the fan of the AC into maximum speed in an effort to get rid of the horrible citrus scent. The car moved away from the apartment complex smoothly while he attempted to concentrate on everything else but the traffic around himself.

 

The sky was almost cloudless and he didn’t even need to check the forecast to know it would be yet another impossibly hot day.

 

**********************

 

The part of Düsseldorf his hotel and the club he was supposed to play in was built right after World War II. It was an ugly thing consisting mainly of concrete buildings in various shades of grey. The hipsters that were fond of that particular part of the city called the style functionalism and were drawn there like moth to the flame.

 

His hotel was very much in line with the rest of the architecture in the area with the added bonus of a industrial style decorations in the lounge. The rest of the hotel was in the eternally boring beige only someone designing hotel rooms would use with the addition of garish wine red carpet on the floors to muffle the sound of people walking.

 

He didn’t feel like lingering all that long in the place and as soon as he had changed his clothing for something more appropriate for performing in a hipster club he left the building. His clothes were a mixed bag of formal wear and something Leonardo would wear but he needed something that was easy to move in and would pass for the very demanding crowd of young adults pretending to be much more artsy than they actually were.

 

He walked on the pavement with his cello case as casually as he could. He knew his route from the hotel to the club was conveniently going right through from where he was supposed to complete his assassination. He thanked whoever (most likely Lucy) had booked the hotel in such a place.

 

It was only a fifteen minute walk from the hotel to the club. He wanted to call Altaïr and ask how he was doing with Cadence but he had left his phone in the hotel to avoid detection since phones were so easy to track and hack into. He also knew it was only sometime past twelve and it would be ridiculous to call Altaïr so soon.

 

“Have some faith,” he mumbled to himself as he dodged a flock of pigeons swarming over a piece of bread.

 

He could feel beads of sweat forming on his back since the black tarmac and the concrete buildings just seemed to amplify the already horrendous heat. He hoped the club was properly air conditioned or he might just pass out before he was done.

 

Then he found himself between the two buildings that were his destination that evening. He could recall the floor plans of them with ease and made a few adjustments to his mental map now that he could see them in person.

 

He didn’t stop there or even slow down and avoided gazing up at the buildings for any handholds. He just passed through them like any other person would and took in all the details he could.

 

The probability of anyone noticing him acting strangely there was almost close to zero since there were plenty of people going around and nobody had time to remember a random face in masses. But the probability still existed and since his business was murder he couldn’t let there be any chance of him being caught.

 

He didn’t want to go to jail and be eternally followed by the government just because he was following Brotherhood’s orders. Though even worse than that was the possibility that the Brotherhood might deem him to be a liability at that point and silence him eternally.

 

It was a chilling thought but it was what kept every Assassin in line. Even the ones who were otherwise reckless like Ezio was didn’t want their heads removed from their shoulders.

 

He passed the buildings and took note of the distance between them. The street could hold barely two cars side by side on it in addition to the narrow pavements on both sides, meaning that the buildings were actually much closer to each other than he had anticipated. But then again it wasn’t a main street that went between them so it was to be expected.

 

He would have to be careful not to let the setting sun reflect off the scope which meant he would either have to get the sun behind his back or try and find shade from where to do his deed. He also needed to take into account the close proximity since it could either work in his advantage or disadvantage since he could get an amazing shot if the target aligned himself just right or he would be hard pressed to find anything to shoot if he was in the wrong spot.

 

But he could at least now understand why the location had been chosen since he couldn’t see any cameras on the street and the building he was going to infiltrate seemed to be an office building, holding only a few small shops on the street level. It would be empty in the evening while the restaurant across the street would be buzzing with people.

 

He wiped some sweat from his forehead he was not quite sure that was even there. But the heat made him feel like he might suffocate if he had to stay any longer in it. Wearing layers in such a weather was a really bad idea.

 

Luckily he found the club in which he was supposed to perform that evening. It was a relatively small place which could hold only a few hundred people in it and served lunch during the day.

 

It would turn into a hipster club, playing live music in the evening. Everything inside celebrated the industrial look of the building and the walls had bare red bricks with all kinds of old signs hanging from them. Yet the people inside looked like they had never worked a day in their lives with their hands.

 

It was also pleasurably cool compared to the outside and for a while he felt a bit chilly as the sweat from his back started evaporating. He scanned the crowd for the manager but could only find a waiter who looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but there.

 

“Excuse me, but is the manager somewhere around?” Malik asked the waiter who scanned him from head to toe before answering.

 

“Are you the artist for the night?”

 

Malik wanted to roll his eyes. He settled for a very big fake smile.

 

“I am one of them, yes.”

 

“Well she is in the back. I can get her if you want,” the waiter said while already turning his back on him.

 

“If you could, please.”

 

He was left awkwardly standing in the middle of the room, hoping that the manager would be a more pleasant person that the waiter. He didn’t deal well with badly behaved people as evident from how well he got along with Altaïr back at home.

 

The club was filled with chattering of the people having their lunch there and the quiet clicks of cutlery against the dishes. It was quite brightly lit but he was sure the lights would be toned down for the evening.

 

There was a stage which was currently empty save for the grand piano in the corner of it. It looked decent but he had no idea how the acoustics were.

 

“Hello! You must be Malik,” somebody greeted him and he turned around to face the person.

 

“I am. Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Malik greeted back while switching his cello case from his right hand into his left hand so he could shake hands properly.

 

“The pleasure is all mine. We so rarely get classically trained musicians playing here since they are becoming such a rarity these days,” she said and eagerly shook Malik’s hand.

 

“Is that so?” he replied as he didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t want to brag about how amazingly rare his skill set was.

 

“Yes. We are expecting full house tonight and tomorrow. It’s so exciting!” She motioned to the rows upon rows of tables.

 

“Who else is playing today?” he asked out of politeness because in reality he didn’t really care all that much.

 

“A classical pianist and our house band will take over later in the evening.”

 

“I see.”

 

“Do you want to test the acoustics? It is the reason why I invited you here so early after all. You can also enjoy a meal if you would like on the house. I know it’s late for lunch though,” she explained with enthusiasm and Malik couldn’t decide if she was actually that excited of a person or if she was just amazing at faking cheerfulness.

 

“Sure,” and she led him to the stage where he got to testing out the acoustics. He had plenty of time to prepare for the evening but he could feel that small twinge in his stomach he always felt when he was about to perform to an audience.

 

He went through the routines of warming up his fingers and he warmed up his left hand’s fingers as well even though there was no need for it but he needed to pretend like he didn’t have a bionic arm. It all may have seemed paranoid to someone who didn’t understand what was going on but since literally everything was watched by someone there was no such thing as being too careful.

 

It was half past one in the afternoon and he would start performing at five. He would have to find a way to kill time before his performance. If he could manage to spend even half an hour getting used to the acoustics it would be a wonder.

 

He also wasn’t one for massive meals before a job so grabbing something quick to eat wouldn’t be nearly enough either. What he really wanted to do was to nap somewhere until five o’clock rolled around but he didn’t want to return to the awful beige hell that was his hotel.

 

He ran through some scales and listened carefully how it all sounded like, making adjustments to his playing according to the acoustics. Things sounded surprisingly good considering that it wasn’t any grand orchestra hall but a relatively small club built in an old factory.

 

He played a piece that wasn’t part of his set for the day just to feel how everything felt that day and how an actual composition sounded. Things were smooth which gave him a much needed boost of confidence.

 

When he stopped he noticed that he had managed to garner a small audience at the edge of the stage. Around five or so hipsters leaned on the stage and watched him play while occasionally talking about something with each other.

 

As he stopped playing one of them said, “I’ve seen you on the news. You are Altaïr’s boyfriend.”

 

Malik’s immediate response was to scowl and insult the speaker but he managed to catch himself before anything could escape from him. So he just smiled even though he felt repulsed. He couldn’t escape Altaïr anywhere and to protect the Brotherhood he needed to keep on pretending even now.

 

“Yes I am,” he answered.

 

“We didn’t know you were such a talented musician. Altaïr doesn’t seem like the type to hang around artists.”

 

Malik was used to this. It wasn’t all that uncommon to find people who wanted to pry into Altaïr’s private life through him.

 

“His public persona is quite a bit different from his private one,” Malik answered while putting his cello back into the case.

 

The people didn’t seem quite convinced though, judging by their expressions.

 

“Not all athletes are stupid meatheads. That’s what the media would like us to believe though,” he explained.

 

The hipsters seemed to get excited by this and started telling stories of how the media manipulated them with fake stories and fabrications. Malik couldn’t help but mentally sigh as to how clueless they really were.

 

He walked away from the stage with his cello case thrown over his shoulder.

 

He decided he would take a walk in the city and grab something to eat while he was at it. The manager of the club had offered a meal on the house but his mood for it had gone through the window the very moment Altaïr had been mentioned.

 

Besides, he wasn’t feeling all that hungry despite not having eaten anything since morning. He rarely felt the need to eat before a performance or an assassination though he logically knew he should get some sustenance.

 

So he got some street food and sat down on a bench to observe the pigeons who gathered around in the hopes of getting some scraps from him. It seemed like the cities held the rudest animals in the world. Either it was nosy squirrels or flocks of invasive birds trying to steal your food but it was always in the cities.

 

The food was bland and had too much salt in it. Just the kind of food sold in the street for people who didn’t know any better. So he just picked at it until he had eaten it about half of it and then gave up, giving the pigeons their long awaited meal.

 

The early afternoon sun and the food made him feel somewhat lethargic. He had to fight against falling asleep so he got up after observing the pigeons fight over his left overs for a while.

 

He ended up wandering the city for hours while at the same time fighting to keep intrusive thoughts from invading his mind. It was apparently one of these days when his own mind wouldn’t leave him alone even for a second.

 

In the end he got back to the club half an hour before he was supposed to perform. Somehow in the span of time he had spent outside it had been transformed into a completely different kind of place from what he had seen earlier.

 

The lights were dimmer, the white tablecloths had been taken off from the tables revealing lacquered wooden surfaces, and background music was played through the speakers. The bartender had appeared behind his counter and was already serving drinks to the sizeable crowd.

 

The manager pulled him to the back room before he could take in more of the atmosphere. He could make final adjustments there in a relative peace.

 

He looked himself in the mirror to make sure he was presentable. His hair was sticking up in every imaginable direction and he had to resist the urge to comb it all down. As much as he hated the thought he could pass as a bohemian artist with ease.

 

“Hide in plain sight,” he mumbled to himself.

 

He could now really feel how his stomach was twisting into a tight knot. To ease his nervousness he took out his cello and started wiping the surface with the cleaning rug.

 

Throwing his cleaning cloth back to the case, he then checked the tuning of the strings. Doing some menial tasks always helped to relieve his nerves.

 

He knew it would pass as he would step on the stage and actually start playing. It always did. It was just the waiting part that was difficult.

 

The minutes until the appointed time seemed to crawl. It didn’t help him in the slightest that he was fully aware that it was only his perception of time that was affected by his own anxious mood. In fact it just made him frustrated that his own mind was attempting to betray him once again.

 

He warmed up his fingers already way too much ahead before he was due to step on the stage and for the last five minutes he had nothing to do but fret over every insignificant thing starting from the colour of his shoes and ending with not being sure if he had pulled the plug from his coffee maker before leaving home.

 

He felt about ready to explode when the time was finally up. He was starting to feel like he just needed to get this over and done with or he would go insane.

 

As he carefully climbed the few stairs leading to the stage he purposefully refused to really look at the audience. The knowledge of suddenly performing for a few hundred people wouldn’t help his performance in the slightest after spending such a significant time playing just for himself.

 

He could hear distantly someone introducing him to the audience and listing some of his merits as an artist. Though he wouldn’t really have wanted to mention having played for two months in a symphony orchestra as a merit before quitting because the Brotherhood demanded him to do so.

 

Then the lights were dimmed even more before the spots on the stage were lit and directed towards him. He had to give credit to the club’s owner for having put a lot of effort into everything.

 

He ran his fingertips on the neck of the instrument before settling them on the strings. He hovered the bow just above them.

 

His insides were trying to turn inside out and exit through his mouth. He wanted to ran away from the situation and never look back.

 

But he ignored his instincts, breathed in deep, mumbled a few inaudible assurance for himself, and then started playing.

 

He started off with a bang. His hands knowing the motions despite his head hesitating and what came out sounded strong and powerful. There was no hint of hesitation in his playing and soon the doubts cleared from his mind.

 

He could concentrate on pouring his entire soul into the music. His awareness of his surroundings blurred and soon he was only left with his music and the mental images it conjured in his mind.

 

The hurricane of emotions that was his playing swept him along completely. The amount of joy he got from it was cathartic and he felt like he could go on like this forever.

 

He was snapped back to reality only when the final notes of the cello sonata he had performed came out of his instruments and he realised he had reached the end of the first set. He felt a bit dumbfounded.

 

A few seconds of silence ensued as he got up from the chair he had been sitting on. A thought that the audience, which he was all too aware of now, might have not liked his performance crept on him like a bad smell.

 

But it was all dispelled when somebody started clapping with others joining them soon afterwards.

 

Malik felt his hands and legs shaking as the burst of adrenaline was finally leaving his body. He bowed slightly to acknowledge the audience before exiting the stage.

 

He took a look at the clock on the wall in the back room. It was a bit over six.

 

A pianist would be playing next and he would go back to the stage at seven. The next performance wouldn’t be nearly as exciting as the first one had been so after he had cleaned up the cello he just sat down with a glass of water and enjoyed the pianist playing.

 

He would have to get his ass into gear after he was done playing because his target would be at the restaurant at eight. He couldn’t linger around the club any more than necessary or the whole mission would be put in jeopardy.

 

The next performance went by quickly. He felt much more relaxed and even dared to flirt with the audience a bit. The club was jam packed with hipsters who wanted to pretend they were much more intelligent than they actually were and classical music suited their needs for pretentiousness.

 

The manager complemented him and they exchanged a few words before Malik left the club.

 

It was a bit over eight now and he needed to turn all of his attention to the assassination.

 

He gripped his cello case a little bit too hard and quickened his pace as he walked towards his destination. He didn’t want to appear suspicious though so he tried his hardest to appear as casual as possible.

 

Luckily it didn’t take more than five minutes for him to reach the buildings. Earlier on he had already formulated a plan on how to approach the situation so when he got there he didn’t even need to glance around to know where to head.

 

The horrible heat from the day was slowly dissipating but the concrete walls of the buildings and the dark tarmac still radiated warmth, making the air feel heavy. It wouldn’t be all that long until the sunset though which gave him even more incentive to act fast.

 

He headed to the backside of the building where he found a two trash compactors but those held little interest to him even if the smell coming from them was rather invasive and unpleasant. What held his interest were the large rainwater pipes.

 

It was attached to the wall with heavy bolts and metal bars that kept the pipe away from direct contact to the wall. It could be used as a very awkward ladder of sorts by someone who had a lot of upper body strength and was agile enough.

 

Malik grinned as he eyed the structure while strapping his cello case on his back so he could use his hands freely. Then he jumped and pulled himself up to the first wall attachment.

 

The world was full of opportunities for someone who could exploit them.

 

He avoided colliding with the hollow pipe which would have made awful noise and possibly alerted someone to his doings. He kept jumping and then pulling himself until he reached the point he was aiming for.

 

He was on level with the second highest floor and he had no interest in going all the way up because on the roof he would be vulnerable to any surveillance from above. What he was aiming for were the poorly secured windows.

 

But he needed to jump a distance of several metres to reach a windowsill. Nobody in their right minds would do something like that. How lucky that he was slightly insane.

 

He bent his knees to gain more leverage to his jump and sprang off. As he twisted his body in midair to reach the windowsill he could see a flash of the ground beneath him. It was so far away.

 

As his hands reached the concrete surface of the windowsill, he instinctively gripped it. He worked all of his upper body muscles to pull himself up on the narrow ledge.

 

There he crouched to keep his balance while he forced his fingers beneath the old window frame. He only needed but pull and twist a few times before the mechanism gave way. To make matters even better it was only one window and he didn’t need to worry about another one getting in the way.

 

A bit of acrobatics were required to get the window opened up without him falling down but he managed in the task and slipped inside the building. He pulled the window closed to avoid any vigilant person on the ground noticing.

 

He walked through the office space he was in and avoided colliding with anything despite it being dark. As he did he slid the cello case off and prepared himself mentally for what was to come.

 

He stopped before another set of windows and pressed himself against the wall there. He opened up the case and reached for the disassembled rifle parts behind the instrument.

 

He quickly put the gun together without even needing to look for what he was doing as his hands knew the feeling of each part by memory. Instead he focused on trying to find his target on the building on the opposing side of the road.

 

When he had assembled the weapon he carefully opened the small ventilation window and set the barrel on top of the sill. He had not seen his target with naked eye but he had the scope which gave him an advantage.

 

But when he peered through the crosshairs he couldn’t see anyone resembling his target on any of the restaurants levels. So he took a look at a clock hanging from the wall in the restaurant.

 

His target must have been running late. Such things tended to happen but he was patient and he would wait. So he did.

 

He meticulously scanned the building over and over again. It was starting to get dark too and he didn’t have infrared sight like the rest of the Assassins had.

 

A twinge of doubt was creeping into his mind and his legs were about to fall asleep. He couldn’t even contact the Brotherhood for the fear of having someone listen in on the conversation. He was utterly alone, trying to figure out what to do.

 

It was almost ten o’clock when a minibus pulled in front of the building. Malik had been about to leave and deem the mission failed with already plans in his head as to how he was about to explain the whole thing to Al Mualim.

 

He couldn’t hear what the group of people who emerged from the van were talking about but he was quite sure the target was among them. He shifted his position slightly and then waited.

 

In a few minutes the group of people appeared on the floor that was directly on the same level as he was. Malik quickly found the target among the people but he had to be patient because he didn’t have a good shot.

 

There were other people in the line of fire and at this kind of range a person behind the target would also get hit by the bullet. He had been ordered to shoot only one person and he wasn’t about to extend his services to other people.

 

So he waited again, tracking his target relentlessly. He watched his target eating, drinking, and laughing as the minutes went by. It was completely dark outside and he could only barely feel the heat of the day in the structures any longer.

 

Then the target stood up while his peers still sat. It was the moment Malik had been waiting for the entire evening. The target raised his glass and all the eyes were on him at that moment.

 

Malik breathed in deep and pulled the trigger in time with his heartbeats. The rifle let out a muffled barely audible sound and recoiled against his shoulder.

 

The next thing he saw in the cross hairs was the target’s head that had pretty much exploded on the spot and the horrified expressions of the other people in the room. Job well done.

 

His hands flew into action disassembling the rifle in a matter of moments and then packing it to the cello case. He had maybe ten minutes, if even that, to get the hell out of there. The police would be swarming the place and not letting anyone leave the area so he couldn’t just stay admiring his handiwork.

 

He dashed to the window from where he had broken into the building. He quickly exited the window and leaped towards the rainwater pipe which he hugged with his body as he slid down towards the ground. He didn’t bother closing the window nor did he care too much about making noise since it wouldn’t take all that long for a forensic investigator to figure out the ballistics of the bullet. They would know in a matter of hours in the most that the bullet had been shot from the office building.

 

His feet touched the ground and he dashed. He slowed down only when he reached the street because he didn’t want to seem suspicious. From there he walked towards his hotel.

 

He could hear the sirens blaring already but he couldn’t figure out if it was an ambulance or a police car that was the first on the scene, and he didn’t stay around to learn it either. In fact he could hear several sirens and a police car drove past him just as he was about to reach his hotel.

 

At the hotel the receptionist greeted him and he greeted her back with the brightest smile he could muster.

 

He took the stairs up to his floor and entered his room where he immediately kicked off his shoes and set the cello case aside. The most pressing matter for him was to call Altaïr.

 

He found his phone where he had left it on the night stand next to the bed. He picked it up and only gave half a thought to the hundreds of messages which he had received since none of them were from Altaïr.

 

He looked up Altaïr from his contacts and made the call. As the phone rang he rummaged for his drug cocktail which he was supposed to have taken already hours ago.

 

He managed to take his drugs and wash them down with a slightly warm stale water before Altaïr finally picked up the phone. At that point his anxiety levels were through the roof and any shred of patience he might have left from the unnerving wait in the office building were just gone.

 

“Yeah?” Altaïr answered the phone.

 

“I’m going to kill you if something has happened to Cadence!” Malik growled to the phone while stripping off his clothes at the same time.

 

“Slow down a bit. Do you even know what time it is?”

 

Malik took a quick look at the phone’s clock. It was over eleven.

 

“Yes I do but don’t pretend you were sleeping because you definitely weren’t.”

 

“True. I was watching a movie with your cat. I had to disrupt his nap because you called.”

 

Malik let out the breath he had not know he was even holding.

 

“So he’s fine?”

 

“He is. I’ll send you a picture.” and sure enough in a matter of seconds a selfie with Cadence sleeping on Altaïr’s lap came to his phone.

 

“I’m glad you are doing well with him. I’m coming back tomorrow so try to endure until then,” Malik said and sat down on the bed to remove his trousers.

 

“It’s no problem. How are you doing?”

 

Malik had to blink twice to understand what Altaïr had just said.

 

“What?”

 

“I asked you how you are doing,” and Malik could detect some irritation from having to repeat the question from Altaïr’s voice.

 

“I’m good. Just a bit tired since I only now got back but I’ve got time to rest,” Malik answered and suddenly felt awkward.

 

“That’s good. I mean... Well, yeah,” and apparently Altaïr was feeling awkward as well.

 

Malik didn’t know how he was supposed to react. He was so used to just snapping insults at Altaïr that he didn’t know how to have a civil conversation with him without feeling weird about it.

 

So he settled for “Well, I’m now going to sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Then a few awkward goodbyes were exchanged and Malik was left half naked lying on the bed trying to figure out what had just happened.

 

At least Cadence was fine which was a relief. Maybe Altaïr had some good in himself – or maybe not. The moment of truth would come tomorrow.

 

He lazily went through the messages which most were centred around Leonardo going on a date with Ezio again and Shaun sending a few complaints about whatever. The news were already filled up with the mysterious shooting in Düsseldorf which was how it was intended to be.

 

With all the things just had just happened going through his mind he fell asleep as the exhaustion finally caught up with him.

 


	6. Professional lunatic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I was going to update this much earlier than what ended up happening. I don't really have any defense either. The first half of this chapter was just so amazingly difficult to write that it just took so much time.
> 
> I humbly thank all the support! I love every single feedback I get. The commenters on this fic are amazing intelligent people!
> 
> Thank you DarthTofu for bothering to beta this once again :D

Malik woke up the day after the assassination to the sensation of stomach churning in anxiousness. He was up much earlier than he had planned but he just couldn’t fall back asleep as the intrusive thoughts and doubts seeped into his mind and refused to leave once settled.

 

He rolled around in the sheets which smelled of some industrial solvent and nothing like what he used for his own home. He settled to staring at the ceiling of the room while the thoughts in his mind kept colliding against each other.

 

The horrible irrational fear that he may have made a mistake yesterday during the assassination was the most prominent thought. Maybe he had forgotten something in the office building or maybe somebody had seen him.

 

It was one of those days then. Depending on the circumstances it was common for his insecurities to catch up to him the next day from a job. Usually he would just dull his senses with medication but it wasn’t an option since he was supposed to perform at the club one more time today.

 

So he got up from the bed, got dressed up, and headed down for the breakfast. He didn’t feel particularly hungry but the rational part of his brain managed to convince him he should get something to eat before locking himself up until it was time to leave for the club.

 

As he ate his tasteless porridge in the hotel restaurant he flicked through the messages and news on his phone. It did nothing to calm his nerves as the news were filled up with the yesterday’s shooting. He could even hear some people discussing the incident in hushed voices around himself.

 

Despite the whole thing being purposefully set up so that it would be a warning towards anyone planning a rebellion Malik couldn’t help but feel how he himself was boiling at the centre of it all. Nobody knew the shooter had been him but he himself knew it and he feared something on him might give the whole secret away.

 

Of course he didn’t have anything actually informing the people around himself that he had pulled the trigger but try and convince his panicked brain of that while listening to scandalised whispers at the same time.

 

One of the messages he had received was a link to a news article. Leonardo had managed to get himself caught on camera while hanging in some bar with Ezio. Apparently this was great news in Leonardo’s weirdly wired brain he just couldn’t understand. At least someone was happy with their situation since Malik definitely wasn’t.

 

He scoffed and pushed his chair away from the table. The porridge was still half eaten but he decided it would be enough. He could catch some street food while on his way to the club or something so it wasn’t like this was his only opportunity for food.

 

He wrapped his phone back into place around his wrist and went back to his room.

 

He sat down on the carpet and leaned against the bed. The best way to deal with crippling anxiety if medication was out of question was to meditate and so he did.

 

He pushed aside all the unwanted thoughts and instead imagined his childhood scenery in his mind. Every time anxiety tried to make it back into his head he just concentrated harder on the scenery. He tried recalling how it sounded and smelled like. What the ground beneath his feet felt like.

 

He repeated the exercise until he was succumbed into his own world and couldn’t hear anything from the world outside of his brain. He just kept endlessly walking on the small road surrounded by forest trying to recall every stone, fallen tree, and fork in the road.

 

It was how he fell asleep once more.

 

He slept until very late in the afternoon and woke up groggy from having slept too much. But sleeping was preferable to facing reality since he rarely dreamt of anything. He could escape the world by shutting his eyes and forcing himself to concentrate on a single task.

 

He picked up the things he needed for the evening while his limbs felt as if they were made out of led and there was a slight headache right behind his eyes. His attempts of getting rid of the nasty feeling involved drinking a lot of water and sitting at the bed whilst staring at the door.

 

When he finally started feeling like a human being he left the suffocating atmosphere of the room and headed out. He had his small bag of clothes with him which he decided he would drop into the car so that he could just leave as soon as he was done with playing. He had no wish to linger near the scene of last night’s events.

 

The receptionist had given him a small smile as he had signed off from the hotel which he had done his best to answer, though all he wanted was to just frown and pout in a corner. He wasn’t allowed these emotions in public so he just braced himself against it.

 

The boring grey car that had brought him in the city stopped in front of the hotel. He threw his bag in and told the car to come and pick him up at the club in the evening.

 

Then he watched as the car drove itself off to wait for the evening. The cello was heavy and he almost feared that blood would somehow spill out of from the seams.

 

The weather was still uncomfortably hot even if it was past the hottest time of the day but the stillness of the air made it feel heavy and oppressing. It was as if the weather was pointing its finger at him whilst saying ‘I know what you did’, which was silly but he couldn’t help the thought.

 

He decided he needed some food because he managed to convince himself that his headache was due to low blood sugar levels and if he just ate something it would help. So he threw his case over his shoulder and ventured further into the city.

 

Unconsciously he walked the same path towards the club he had done the day before and only realised having done so when the restaurant his target had been was surrounded by police investigation tapes. The whole scene made him nervous despite nobody paying any attention to him as he just quietly passed the hordes of people who had gathered around the place out of curiosity.

 

He could hear more gossip from the people. He tried his best to ignore all of it but he couldn’t help but hear some of it anyway.

 

He allowed himself a glance at the broken window which the bullet had shattered as it had gone through it in search of its target. Everybody else was staring at it so there was no harm. Most of the shattered glass had obviously been already cleaned off but the window itself was yet to be replaced.

 

He could feel his stomach sinking at the sight of it all, making him have to fight the need to just run away. Somehow he managed to keep himself composed and he breathed in relief when he was far away from the place not the hear any of the people talking about the incident.

 

He ended up getting the same food he had gotten the previous day. The taste had not improved in the slightest and he couldn’t help but wonder why he had bought it, as he fed half of it to the greedy pigeons.

 

His headache had let go of him slightly. It was still there but it felt duller than before.

 

He took a look at his phone and decided he would go to the club and wait out the remaining time there. So he got up from the bench he had been sitting on and walked through the flock of pigeons picking at his food. The birds only barely bothered to make way.

 

At the door to the club he had to explain what his business was to an idiotic bouncer who couldn’t tell the difference between a cello and a double bass. There was a queue to the door as people were waiting for the club to open.

 

The bouncer did let him inside where it was luckily quiet and only a minimal amount of people were going around. If he could choose, which he of course couldn’t, he wouldn’t have interacted with anyone in the state of mind he currently was.

 

Of course he couldn’t let any of his discontent to show and apparently he looked especially inviting since the manager, as soon as she spotted him, all but ran towards him. The woman was disgustingly cheery and excited. Malik was in no mood for any hyperactive people and wanted to tell her off.

 

He didn’t tell her off though, instead he just greeted her politely. She greeted her back and gestured him to come to sit on one of the tables. Malik’s instinct was to cringe and he might have done so for half a second before reigning himself in.

 

“Did you hear about the shooting?” she asked her while at the same time, making signs at one of her employees who was currently polishing up the tables.

 

Malik felt someone had stabbed him in the gut. The subject was too close to home for him to be comfortable.

 

“Yes. I had just returned to my hotel and I heard the sirens. Terrible stuff,” Malik feigned his best at concerned citizen.

 

She looked at him with an angry glint in her eyes, which made Malik fear she might have somehow caught up that he had been the killer. Of course the whole notion that some restaurant manager had figured out what the police and crime scene investigators had not was completely ridiculous.

 

“I can’t believe there are such lunatics walking around and the government is doing nothing about them. The man had been shot. How did the murderer get their hands on a weapon?”

 

A horrible amused grin attempted to make its way to his features. The whole idea that she was talking to the killer himself and had no clue was hysterical. She called him a lunatic. She had no idea how right she was.

 

Malik looked down at his hands which he had crossed over the table.

 

She was clearly expecting him to take part in her confused anger.

 

“I don’t know. There are all these things to protect us from harm and yet things like this happen. It terrifies me. How can they not even catch the shooter?” and he knew exactly how they couldn’t catch him. There were simply too many people around the area to pinpoint a single one among them all. And a musician wasn’t high on the list of suspects.

 

She took a look at her phone and then smiled at him.

 

“I gotta go. We’ll be opening up in a bit. I hope this doesn’t affect your performance.” She got up from the table and Malik felt obliged to do the same.

 

“Don’t worry about it. I’m a professional,” and he wanted to add ‘ _killer_ ’ because his mind was going around in hysterical loops.

 

He was only glad when he finally got around to playing and then even more so when he was finally done with it. He could escape his persistent anxiety for a little while when playing but as soon as he stopped and gazed at the audience it all came back like a wave crashing into a dam. Only that the dam couldn’t hold and broke down any control over his own mind he might have had.

 

He couldn’t be out of the dimly lit crowded club soon enough. He didn’t run out but he really wanted to do so.

 

He exchanged some courtesy talk with the manager and then simply walked out into the cooling evening. The car was on in front of the pavement diligently waiting for him.

 

He stuffed his cello case in the boot which was still just as small as it had been the previous day. The brotherhood must have gotten kicks out of the idea that he had to struggle to fit everything in this crappy car they gave him.

 

He rummaged through his bag for his drugs because he knew he would need them to survive the trip home. When he found what he was looking for he closed the boot lid and went to the driver’s side where he promptly sit down.

 

“Good evening, Mr. Al-Sayf. Do you want to return home?” the car asked and Malik wanted to hiss it to shut up. He didn’t want to listen anyone talking to him – not even a car.

 

But he simply said, “yes,” and fastened his seatbelt so that the car would not start nagging to him about them.

 

Fortunately the car wasn’t feeling chatty and just gently pulled off from in front of the club. Malik leaned purposefully deep into the seat to be actually comfortable.

 

Then he went through his drug cocktail and took a double dose of his antidepressants. It was something his psychiatrist had told him to do if the anxiety got intolerable. The anxiety was intolerable and sitting in the car didn’t help him in the slightest as he was just fighting between the want to shout at the car to hurry up back home and wanting to throw up from the sheer disgust of the idea of having to sit in a car.

 

“Why am I so fucked up?” he asked himself quietly. Sometimes he could feel his thoughts clarify if he spoke them aloud but this time he was only greeted by the barely audible scratching sound coming from the tyres.

 

He put on a podcast which he had no intention of listening to but he was hoping it would drown out everything else going on around him. He had no desire to acknowledge any of his surroundings because if he did he might just have a heart attack.

 

At some point he could feel how the extra dosage kicked in, leaving him feeling dull. He didn’t like the drugs because they flattened his emotions and without his emotions he was like a zombie just mechanically going through the motions that made him human.

 

If emotions could be measured with an oscilloscope they would have been almost flatlining at this point because he just didn’t care in either way. He couldn’t really feel happy about anything but on the other hand he also couldn’t care about the usually so frightening traffic. He was null.

 

It was still preferable option to losing his mind. It was like choosing between two evils.

 

One might think the state he was in, as he just passively leaned on the door with his elbow and stared at the traffic, might make him think more rationally. It didn’t. It only left him with the knowledge of how he was actually cheating himself out of dealing with the reality.

 

He felt the vibrations of his phone on his wrist, indicating an incoming message. He took the phone off and checked it for the lack of anything better to do.

 

Leonardo had send him a message ‘ _I’m going out with Ezio tomorrow! :D Wish me luck!_ ” and he rolled his eyes even though he knew there was no one to see the motions.

 

‘ _Why are you wasting your time with the idiot? Why is he suddenly interested in going out with you?_ ’ he typed in before setting the phone down on his lap.

 

A return message followed quickly ‘ _He said he wanted to experiment and he really likes my humour. We are going to some really posh nightclub ;D_ ’

 

‘ _I don’t want to read about his trousers ‘accidentally’ falling off on the dance floor on tomorrow’s gossip news_ ’ and it wouldn’t have been the first time Ezio had been caught by someone doing stupid things while drunken.

 

He couldn’t understand Leonardo’s motivations for wanting to associate with a trash celebrity like Ezio. At least Altaïr had done something to earn his fame even if it irritated Malik to no end.

 

Currently he was just answering Leonardo’s messages with condemnation, not because he cared, but because he knew he would care tomorrow when the drugs wore off. It also gave him something to do because in his current state he couldn’t appreciate the scenery behind the car window nor could he really enjoy any other source of entertainment.

 

The phone vibrated again. ‘ _I will make sure that won’t happen. I can’t promise his trousers staying on when we get back though ;)_ ’

 

Malik would have cringed at the thought normally but now he just sighed.

 

‘ _How were your parents?_ ’ he asked because he didn’t want to have the inevitable discussion of how big Ezio’s dick was which was the obvious direction the conversation was heading towards.

 

‘ _It was fine. They wish I would come to visit them sometime. We made oven potatoes and some delicious tomato sauce to with it._ ’

 

Malik stared at the traffic for a while before answering.

 

‘ _In a true Italian-Irish fashion. Shaun would have a field day with that. So why don’t you visit them then? You haven’t been home in years._ ’

 

‘ _I am just going to ignore the obvious stereotype jibe. They live in Greece. It’s not like I can just pop in there just like that and then come back. Also you are the one to talk Mr. last-time-I-visited-my-family-was-when-my-brother-was-buried :P_ ’

 

‘ _I don’t feel like talking to you. I’ll see you around._ ’

 

Then he wrapped his phone back around his wrist and very intentionally ignored anything that might have been going on with the damned thing. He leaned on the window once more and stared out but didn’t really see the scenery.

 

There was a sudden need inside himself to call his grandparents which was ignited by Leonardo’s text. He almost took the phone into his hands once more before deciding against it. He refused to call them while he was like this. He would call them the next day.

 

It wasn’t like the situation would change overnight.

 

The rest of the journey he spent in a weird daze with his thoughts in a fuzz.

 

It was already dark when he got back to Brussels and to his apartment block. He could see light on Altaïr’s window which gave him the confidence to go and ring his doorbell.

 

He picked up his things from the boot and dragged them back to his own apartment where he just abandoned them right in front of his door. He didn’t want to delay getting Cadence back from Altaïr.

 

So he left his apartment, though he didn’t bother closing the door since he was just going to the next door. He had no desire to linger in Altaïr’s presence more than necessary.

 

He rang the doorbell and waited. Nobody came to open the door.

 

Then he rang the doorbell again and this time around he could hear annoyed grunts through the door accompanied by soft footsteps. He had told Altaïr he would pick Cadence up when he returned so it shouldn’t have been a surprise.

 

The door opened, revealing Altaïr who wore a black t-shirt that had a very distinct amount of white hair. Altaïr obviously noticed that he was eyeing the shirt and crossed his arms over his chest in a very poor attempt to cover it.

 

“I came to pick up Cadence.”

 

Altaïr’s eyes narrowed as he stared at Malik judgementally. Malik didn’t move up from his place.

 

“Are you on drugs?” Altaïr asked after a long stretch of silence had made everything awkward.

 

“Yes. I double dosed my antidepressants to make the return ride tolerable.” Malik shrugged. Altaïr knew about his medications. It was impossible hide something like that when you shared rooms with someone on a regular basis.

 

“I’ve never seen you do that before.”

 

Malik couldn’t really understand the significance of the statement. What did his medication matter to Altaïr?

 

“Well I have never had the need for it before.” But it was a lie and he knew it.

 

Altaïr scowled at him and the dialogue seemed to end once more. Malik felt mild irritation which would have normally been as if a volcano was about to erupt.

 

“So what about Cadence?” Malik asked, breaking the silence, again.

 

His words had a visible effect on Altaïr who seemed to almost recoil when he heard them.

 

“No way I’m giving him to some walking dead. Come back tomorrow morning when you have slept off your drugs.” Altaïr slammed the door shut, leaving somewhat confused Malik, wondering what he should do.

 

He just stared the door dumbly before his brain caught up. Somewhere very deep inside him something was telling him to have a rage fit and tear the door down but as it was he couldn’t muster the energy.

 

He simply went back to his apartment, closed the door, and took Altaïr’s advice. He would try his luck the next morning.

 

*************************

 

He woke up angry. He kept slamming the doors in his apartment, squeezing the shampoo bottle with too much force, and cursing not all that quietly at the empty rooms.

 

By the time he was ready to go and pick Cadence up he had worked himself into a cold fury. Anyone with a half a brain would steer clear from him when he was like that.

 

Altaïr didn’t have a half a brain as he opened the door to Malik after Malik had banged the door continuously while shouting insults at Altaïr. He had only stopped when he heard the lock being released from the other side of the door.

 

Altaïr regarded him coolly which infuriated Malik even more, however that was even possible.

 

“The cat, Altaïr. I came to get him.”

 

“At least you are not high as a kite.” Of course Altaïr just had to rub it in but unlike yesterday Malik wasn’t just going to let it go like that.

 

“Why do you even care, asshole?! It’s none of your business!” Malik snapped and watched as some sort of realisation went through Altaïr’s features.

 

“Fine. I don’t care. Come and get your cat.” Altaïr turned around before Malik could say anything more and disappeared inside the apartment. Malik followed behind still seething silently.

 

Most of his rage melted away as soon as he saw Cadence lazily sleeping on the couch. The cat did perk up when he saw Malik and took to running into Malik’s waiting arms.

 

He picked the cat up and cooed nonsense at him. Cadence purred loudly and rubbed his cheeks against Malik anywhere he could while attempting to knit Malik’s chest, resulting in a slightly confusing fidgeting mess. But it was adorable and Malik could have stayed like that forever if it weren’t for being inside the asshole king’s apartment.

 

Without further prompting Altaïr picked up Cadence’s things which Malik was grateful for because he didn’t want to start yet another argument while in Cadence’s presence. He didn’t want to scare his dear kitty.

 

Once he was back in his own apartment and Altaïr was gone he leaned his back on the front door. Sighing in relief, he slid down to sit on the floor. Cadence decided he would much rather chase an invisible dustbunny than sit there with Malik.

 

Malik let the cat go and just sat there with his legs splayed out, watching but not really seeing Cadence play. He couldn’t quite decide if he was happy that Altaïr had actually taken really good care of Cadence, or if he was scared shitless from the fact that he needed to go and report back to Al Mualim. For the most part he was just angry at himself for everything.

 

And he was angry at Altaïr for having the gall to judge him.

 

Altaïr knew nothing about his problems and Altaïr had no problems himself so he wouldn’t understand. Malik had not asked for any of this. All he ever did was to do his best to keep his head above the surface and to simply survive.

 

Cadence kept chasing the dustbunny without care in the world. Malik smiled at the cat and leant his head backwards until it hit the door with a soft thud. According to the scientific studies cats had a stress reliving effect on people. Malik could definitely attest that as there was no time he felt more happier than whenever he spend time with Cadence.

 

When Cadence finally stopped playing and looked at Malik with his huge blue eyes Malik got up from the floor. The cat meowed in a very meaningful manner, making Malik chuckle almost involuntarily.

 

“You want food?” and he talked like he was talking to a very small child but he didn’t care.

 

Cadence answered him by letting out demanding sounds which Malik interpreted as trying to hurry him up. He was completely weak against anything Cadence wanted.

 

“Just a minute. I need to get a clean dish for you,” he explained as the cat followed him to the kitchen.

 

When he had fed the cat he sat down to the kitchen table and leaned on his arms. Cadence ate like he had not seen food for days even if the cat’s growing midriff begged to differ. Malik took a quick look at the clock and sighed.

 

He would have to go and give his report sooner or later. So after procrastinating for a while he got up and picked his cello case from where he had left it next to the door yesterday. He would return the rifle while he was at it too.

 

There was no real limit as to how long they could keep the brotherhood’s equipment but he just really didn’t want to keep a murder weapon in his home more than necessary. It made him extremely uncomfortable.

 

Cadence ran to the door as he was about to leave and he had to make sure the cat wouldn’t follow him to the floor outside. He had no wish to chase a very slippery Siamese cat through the staircases.

 

The block was quiet as it always was at this time of the day, closing a door caused a lot of noise which would echo around the walls for a long time afterwards. If he didn’t know any better he wouldn’t have been able to guess just how much commotion went through the block in almost every evening courtesy of his upstairs neighbours.

 

But two thirds of the asshole trio were probably still sleeping off their hangovers while the one awake was doing whatever Altaïr did when he wasn’t acting like a maniac. Malik didn’t care.

 

His knee joints felt a bit stiff when he walked down the stairs but they were all loosened up by the time he reached the bottom.

 

The sun shined way too brightly and hotly. He really wished the horrible heatwave would already pass because he was done trying not to die from a heatstroke. Because of his left arm he was stuck wearing long sleeved shirts and gloves no matter the weather and summer heat was a nightmare for him.

 

The park was pleasantly empty of people and while the squirrels made tentative approaches towards him he didn’t stop to play with them this time around. He just quickened his pace so he could be done with everything as quickly as possible. There just was no reason to delay.

 

Walking in a quick pace also had the benefit of not leaving too much room for him to think unnecessary thoughts so he survived to Sicarius buildings without too much inner struggle. It was only when he stepped inside the financial building the tread and anxiety caught up with him once more.

 

As he handed over his phone he was trying to find any excuse he could for not having to go and deal with Rashid ad-Din Sinan and his dead eyed terrifying glare. He shook his head in an effort to just get rid of the thoughts, but the tremble in his hands didn’t go away.

 

Stepping into the lift felt the same as marching voluntarily into his own execution. There should have at least been the option to take stairs to save him from having to combat even more anxiety.

 

He was grateful when the lift finally stopped in the desired level and he stepped out into the barren wasteland that was the eight floor. His echoing footsteps made him remember just why the eight floor wasn’t all that much better from the cramped up lift.

 

But this time around it was made slightly better by the noises that echoed loudly from the president’s room. His own footsteps were almost drowned in that noise.

 

It was Italian shouted at someone who occasionally attempted to butt in to the very one way conversation. As Malik passed the room he didn’t intend to peek in but the door was left open and he glanced only shortly and saw Mr. Auditore the company president lecturing his oldest son about something.

 

Malik knew Federico only in passing as the man worked in the sales team and he didn’t really associate with them all that much. He had a suspicion that Federico was also one of the intelligence members since all Auditores were Assassins in one way or another. He hated Italians so much.

 

He stopped in front of Al Mualim’s office and knocked on the door. The worker in the lobby had called the CEO through the intercom as soon as he had appeared in the building, so it wasn’t a surprise when he heard muffled “Come in” through the door.

 

As he stepped inside the office he was hoping he could get away from the whole ordeal with a brief straight to the point report. After all there was no need to deal with any bullshit that Altaïr might have reported earlier or done during their mission.

 

“How have you been, Malik?” Al Mualim asked without taking his eyes away from whatever the thing in front of him was so fascinating to require his attention.

 

“Good.”

 

“That’s good to hear.” Al Mualim looked briefly at him and managed something akin to a smile. Malik had been in this room enough times to know that this was how his reports always panned out. He wasn’t sure if this was how all the rest of the Assassins reported in but the awkwardness and anxiety were a vital part of the process. So was the very intentional intimidation techniques Al Mualim practised on him. Maybe it was a way to keep him in line. He didn’t know.

 

“So how was your mission?” Al Mualim turned his full attention on Malik and Malik wanted to just shrink on the spot and then flee.

 

Somehow he managed to convince himself to stay put and give out his report. He recalled how the target had been either late or their source of information had been incorrect and at that point Al Mualim seemed to react in a slightly unusual way which Malik couldn’t quite understand the meaning of.

 

He also told in a very detailed manner how he had infiltrated the office building and his escape route. It seemed to satisfy Al Mualim and Malik let himself relax a little bit.

 

But his relaxation was premature since all the anxiety strung back immediately as soon as Al Mualim spoke again.

 

“The job was adequate. There are a lot of things you could have done better or which you completely missed out. If Arno had been available I would have sent him. Have you considered employing your talents otherwise?”

 

Malik ground his teeth together. Sure, there was always room for improvement but he thought he had performed more than adequately and now he was being suggested to take a hike? He had been recruited into the order in his teens and been trained to become an Assassins since then. This felt amazingly unfair.

 

“I am sorry, sir, but I don’t think I quite understand,” he replied with only a small waver in his voice giving away his inner turmoil.

 

“I am fully aware of your mental health problems, which while seemed to be kept in check, might become a problem in the future. There are other ways to work to progress our cause. We could re-educate you as a spy or maybe an engineer. You seem to have a lot of friends among the engineers so I think you would fit in just fine,” Al Mualim explained and sounded way too friendly and understanding to be genuinely any of that.

 

“No!” escaped before he had time to think his reply through and he hurried to correct himself. “I mean I’ll consider it but for now I would like to retain this role.”

 

He could see a visible disappointment in Al Mualim which made him want to puke.

 

“Very well, Malik.” It was a clear dismissal which Malik was more than happy to take.

 

When he was about to leave Al Mualim spoke up once more “Take Altaïr with you tomorrow and go and talk to Lucy about your next mission.”

 

Malik nodded politely and exited the room. He was furious which was a strange thing to be feeling after reporting in to Al Mualim. Usually he came out as a nervous wreck instead of seething in fury.

 

He started towards the lift but stopped when he was shouted at in a heavily Italian accented English.

 

He turned towards the president’s office where the shout had originated from and asked with a polite cock of his head “Yes?”

 

The president smiled with that same wide grin Ezio smiled at people. “Good job with the Düsseldorf job. My own sons ought to learn from you.”

 

Malik nodded. “Thank you for the compliment, sir.”

 

The president winked at him and told him to go enjoy himself while he was young, leaving Malik with mixed emotions. He had been just all but said directly that he wasn’t good enough of an Assassin by Al Mualim yet the president had praised his efforts. Which ones words held more power? He had no idea.

 

He stepped into the lift and selected the floor just underneath this one so he could get to Lucy. There were a lot of thoughts knocking inside his head in any given moment but it was so rare for those thoughts to be as conflicted as they currently were. But damn if it didn’t feel nice to be complimented every now and again. He couldn’t even remember the last time anyone had told him he had done a good job – anyone that mattered at least.

 

The lift stopped almost as soon as it had started ascending and dinged to inform him he had in fact reached his floor. He stepped out of the lift into the yet another quiet floor but this time it wasn’t the kind of oppressive silence that was usually accompanied by the visits to the eight floor. This time it was a sort of lazy lull in the middle of a chaos.

 

He knocked on Lucy’s door since it was shut. He could hear noises inside the office but he couldn’t really make out their meaning. He frowned as there was no response to his knocking and knocked once more. The noises came to a standstill inside.

 

“Just a little bit!” came the hurried response and there was an unmistakable shuffle of feet inside and rustling of clothes.

 

Then a very flustered Desmond barged out, apologising all the way to the lift. It was a good thing that at least some people were enjoying themselves at least.

 

Malik took it as his cue to step inside the office. Lucy looked ruffled and a very distinct air of sex lingered on her. It wasn’t any of his business though.

 

“If you say anything about this to anyone I will kill you,” Lucy threatened him while still trying to sort his hair into something more presentable.

 

Malik just rolled his eyes and set down his cello case from which he collected all the rifle parts. Then he quickly assembled the weapon and set it on the table.

 

“I’ll just leave this here. I’m coming back tomorrow with Altaïr. It would probably be advisable to limit your trysts with Desmond outside of work.”

 

Lucy gave him the stink eye but Malik knew that despite her threats she couldn’t really do anything about it. It was probably also against some company rule to have sex during working hours.

 

“By the way you buttoned your shirt incorrectly,” he said before exiting the office and the sudden look of surprise on Lucy’s face was priceless.

 

Then he just threw the cello case over his shoulder and left.

 

When he eventually made it back outside and had his phone back he felt relieved. Giving reports was almost more unnerving than the actual assassinations.

 

He had survived yet another day and everything was back to normal. Except that there was Desmond right outside the lobby’s doors fiddling nervously with his phone. Malik thought Desmond might have run all the way to his apartment in shame – not find him red cheeked like a child who had done something wrong.

 

Malik was just about to go about his way when Desmond run over to him and started to walk with him towards the park.

 

“Please don’t tell my cousin that I am going out with Lucy,” Desmond blurted out, making Malik raise his eyebrow.

 

“Which one?”

 

Desmond put away his phone and curiously enough didn’t wrap it around his wrist but put it in his jean’s pocket. Apparently Desmond had a wish to get a testicle cancer. Americans were weird.

 

“Either one. They won’t leave me alone if they hear I’m going out with the CEO’s secretary,” Desmond answered and sounded just a little bit less nervous. Malik nodded.

 

“How long have you been going out,” he asked because he didn’t mind some gossip every now and then.

 

Desmond seemed to be trying to figure out something in his head judging by his sudden need to stare at his feet. As if calculating how long he had been going out with someone was higher mathematics.

 

“I think for four months? It was really soon after I came over from the US. We just clicked almost immediately.” Which was much more information than Malik had asked but he didn’t mind hearing it either.

 

“I see.”

 

“But you can’t tell my cousins!”

 

Malik rolled his eyes.

 

They parted ways in front of the apartment blocks since Desmond lived in a different block than Malik did.

 

He wasn’t sure what it was that lead him to ring Altaïr’s doorbell with the intention of informing him of tomorrow’s plans. All he knew he just wanted to be done with every obligation he had for the day and spent the rest of the day curled up on his couch reading some trash novel.

 

He still had his cello case when Altaïr opened the door since he had intended to just tell Altaïr to come with him to see Lucy and be done with it. He had not expected what followed.

 

“I know you enjoy drinking tea, so I was wondering if you wanted some?” Altaïr asked and Malik wondered if he there was actually some hesitation in his voice or if he was just imagining it.

 

It took him more time to process the words than usual because the request caught him completely off guard. Though he realised that it was also something that had been happening more often lately for some reason.

 

“Sure,” he found himself agreeing and followed Altaïr inside.

 

He set his cello case down by the door and took off his shoes. Altaïr disappeared into the kitchen and Malik took deliberately soft footsteps to follow. Somehow he felt like even a tiniest noise might break whatever semblance of peace there was between them.

 

He sat down to the table in the kitchen and silently took record of every appliance and whatever else he could land his eyes on while Altaïr was busy putting the kettle on. The kitchen looked barely lived in. There were no spots of spilled food or grease stains in the ceiling. Only a single cup which had the remains of either coffee or tea in it told the story of the person living in the apartment.

 

Altaïr leaned on the counter when he was done fussing over the kettle. It was obvious Altaïr didn’t use the thing all that often, seeing how he had fiddled with it uselessly for a few minutes.

 

“We need to go see Lucy tomorrow for the next mission. I suggest we go early in the morning.” Malik decided he would get his own business out of the way before he could figure out what Altaïr wanted.

 

Altaïr shrugged his shoulders and agreed. It left them in an awkward silence where the only source of sound was the kettle wheezing on the stove.

 

“Your cousin is dating Lucy,” Malik said even though just ten minutes ago Desmond had tried to make him swear he wouldn’t tell.

 

Altaïr looked at him questioningly before crossing his arms.

 

“Which one?”

 

“Would I bother reporting it if it was Ezio?”

 

Altaïr snorted at Malik’s response.

 

“True. Though I didn’t think Desmond had it in himself and how did he even manage to attract someone like Lucy? Desmond has the charisma of a beaten dog.” Altaïr was clearly amused by himself and while Malik wanted to disagree with him out of habit he found himself doing something else.

 

“Maybe she’s into beaten dogs. Some people have kink for that kind of thing.” To accentuate his supposed indifference to the subject he shrugged in a very exaggerated manner.

 

Altaïr had positively evil glint in his eyes as he was obviously imagining something dirty. Malik wanted to roll his eyes.

 

The kettle whistled to indicate the water was boiling. Malik looked on amused as Altaïr scrambled through the cupboards to find two identical cups. He could have told Altaïr he didn’t care if their cups didn’t match but he didn’t.

 

When the water was poured and the actual tea was found somewhere hidden in one of the cupboards Altaïr sat down to the table as well. The awkwardness was back full on and Malik tried his hardest to understand Altaïr’s motivations.

 

“Look, I’m sorry for yesterday,” and it apparently took great strength for Altaïr to say the words judging by his expression and the way he held the cup in his hands way too tight.

 

Malik just waved his hand in a dismissing manner. He wasn’t going to give Altaïr the satisfaction of knowing he had managed to crawl under his skin, even though he had.

 

“It’s fine.”

 

“No it’s not.”

 

“How did you even know I was on drugs?” he asked since the question had genuinely baffled him.

 

Altaïr attempted something akin to a smile but it came out crooked and forced.

 

“Normally the first thing you would have done was to strangle me and yet you just stood there doing nothing.”

 

Malik scowled and the reaction was completely unintentional.

 

“So you thought I had been using something because I wasn’t pissed off at you? That’s some logic.” He felt already irritated and just about ready to leave.

 

“Do you know what happened to my parents?” Altaïr asked and Malik tried to understand what Altaïr’s parents had to do with him double dosing antidepressants.

 

“Your mother is in jail and Rashid adopted you. That’s all I know.” It was also what everyone else knew as well just like everyone knew his father had been killed by a Templar. It was practically common knowledge.

 

“Yes. My mother was caught red-handed during a job by the police and sentenced for life. Father got really depressed over it and started abusing drugs. Social service eventually caught up with everything and took me away from him.”

 

“I see,” Malik replied because he honestly couldn’t think of a reply to that kind of a confession.

 

“No you don’t. You should stop using drugs or you will end up like my father did,” Altaïr said like the self-entitled prick he was.

 

This time around Malik actually rolled his eyes.

 

“First of all, it’s my prescriptive medicine and not some drugs I bought from the streets to get high. Secondly, I would really like to see how I will away my depression and anxiety without them. And thirdly, who are you to command my actions?” he spat out with venom as his temper flared.

 

Apparently Altaïr was not about to be outdone either.

 

“You should actually deal with your problems instead of burying yourself in a pill bottle!”

 

“Why do you even care?” Malik shouted as he just couldn’t hold it back any longer.

 

“Do I need some special reason to care? What if I don’t want to lose yet another person I care about,” and obviously Altaïr had not intended to say that since he immediately slapped his hand over his mouth and muttered curses in German.

 

Malik narrowed his eyes and stared at Altaïr.

 

Then they were back to the awkward silence where they just sipped on their teas while avoiding eye contact. The clink of the cups hitting the table was way too loud in the stretching silence.

 

Malik was trying to figure out hundred different things in his head at the same time but couldn’t really reach conclusion on any of them. There was the underlying possibility that Altaïr wasn’t a complete jerk, then everything Al Mualim had said to him, and finally the president praising him. It all melted into a weird tangled mess in his head which he couldn’t really grasp any of it properly.

 

“Thanks for taking care of Cadence,” was what he finally said.

 

“It wasn’t completely unpleasant affair,” Altaïr replied and his cat hair riddled shirt came to Malik’s mind.

 

“Do you want to come running with me tomorrow after seeing Lucy? I would benefit from having someone to run with since the championships are coming up in just three weeks,” Altaïr asked.

 

Malik weighed his options for a while before answering.

 

“Sure. Why not but I’m not probably much of a help to you.” Because he couldn’t see any reason to refuse either since he was going to go running anyway.

 

He could see the familiar stupid smirk return to Altaïr’s features and he was both relieved to see it and at the same time wanted to punch it off. How confusing.

 

“Probably more than Ezio who has been just whoring away for the last almost half a year now,” and somehow despite the idiocy of the statement Malik found himself smiling. But only a little bit.

 


	7. Questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is way too late and kinda short too! Writing this fic drains me so badly but I hope that the results are an improvement to my earlier works. Editing this was a hell too because there were so many mistakes this time around. 
> 
> But as a commenter so eloquently put it "It's moving!"
> 
> Thank you so much for your support. I can't stress enough just how much the feedback means to me! All of it!
> 
> Beta-read by DarthTofu <3

Malik had woken up to the sensation of guilt. It wasn’t part of his usual emotional repertoire like anger, anxiousness, and the occasional burst of happiness was.

 

The realisation that he had actually been exceedingly rude to Altaïr refused to leave him and gnawed him from the inside. He had not thought about it when he had had his argument with Altaïr but now he realised Altaïr was actually worried about him.

 

The problem was of course that Altaïr lacked basic social skills and Malik wasn’t sure if he himself was any better. He wanted to apologise but his pride prevented him from doing so.

 

The two of them were walking towards the Sicarius buildings. It was still very early into the day but it was already intolerably hot outside.

 

Malik held his bag of spare clothes with his right hand and his left hand was entwined with Altaïr’s. Altaïr had insisted they should put on a bit of a show if anyone who recognised them happened to see them.

 

There were only squirrels in the park which left Malik wondering about the actual usefulness of the exercise. He didn’t voice his opinion, instead he concentrated on staying at a same pace with Altaïr which was surprisingly easy, considering how badly they clashed otherwise.

 

It might have even been a pleasant thing to walk around holding your partner’s hand if the knowledge of what kind of arrogant idiot the hand was attached to didn’t plague his thoughts.

 

He tried closing his eyes and pretend that it wasn’t Altaïr. It was made difficult because while he tried imagining someone else on his left side all he ever could think was Altaïr’s overly smug face. So he just opened his eyes and resigned to his fate.

 

He knew he should apologise but whenever he tried to form the words they got stuck in his throat. He shouldn’t have said those things he said yesterday because now he just didn’t know how to undo any of it.

 

Altair was acting like nothing had happened and kept holding on to his hand. So he did act like nothing had happened too, even though the guilt tried to eat him from the inside.

 

Why did he have to be so insensitive when for once Altair had tried to be helpful?

 

But then there was this hand holding, and what it was even supposed to be about? A display for the squirrels in the park or the random jogger that might be there? It disgusted him.

 

Altaïr only released his hand after giving away his phone to the worker in the lobby.

 

As they took the lift Altaïr asked him “How did you figure out Desmond is seeing Lucy?”

 

Malik didn’t mind the distraction from listening to the soft hum of the lift moving upwards.

 

“I am fairly sure I interrupted their fucking session yesterday when I returned the rifle. Have you been tormenting Desmond about it?” and from the looks of it Altaïr had indeed been making Desmond’s life miserable.

 

“I wouldn’t do such a thing, you know me,” Altaïr feigned innocent and flashed a toothy grin. Malik was left staring with his mouth wide open as he tried to understand whether or not Altaïr had actually been joking _with_ him.

 

The lift then mercifully stopped and they stepped out. Desmond was nowhere to be seen this time around which saved them from more awkward situations.

 

Altaïr didn’t bother announcing his presence and just pushed the door open to Lucy’s office. Malik wanted to lecture him about manners but let it go when he saw Lucy regarding them coolly behind her desk.

 

“So you came,” she commented as some sort of weird greeting.

 

“We were ordered,” Malik replied and stepped up towards the desk with Altaïr right behind him.

 

Altaïr pulled a chair from somewhere and lounged all over it, looking extremely bored. They had not been there for even five minutes.

 

Without further prompting Lucy launched into explaining their next mission.

 

“We have the next target for you. He’s a politician and a known Templar. We have been wanting to get rid off him for a very long time but he’s a sneaky one and avoids places where he could be caught off guard by anything.”

 

Malik raised his eyebrow at the description and glanced at Altaïr who was shuffling his feet and staring at a wall. He could guess their target must be very high profile if he wasn’t content on just relying on the national security for protection.

 

“But he has purchased a ticket to the European championships. It’s not reserved seating so we don’t know where he will be. He might be in VIP for all we know but we know he will be there and so will you.”

 

Altaïr finally perked up when the championships were mentioned. Malik could only guess he was torn between wanting to win the competition or to get the job done. It was three weeks from now and there was plenty of time to things change in that time.

 

“I am competing there. Are you saying I need to abandon my chances to win to kill some shitty loser politician.” And Altaïr’s words just confirmed his thoughts.

 

Lucy narrowed her eyes and stared at Altaïr.

 

“Not necessarily. Malik could handle the job while you compete. In fact Malik would probably draw much less attention from the crowd if he were the one to sneak around,” Lucy answered and straightened some imaginary wrinkle in her shirt.

 

Altaïr was obviously very displeased by the words. Malik knew Altaïr fancied himself the best Assassin in the order and took a lot of pride in his work.

 

“Who exactly is the target?” Malik asked since the topic had somehow been managed to be avoided so far.

 

“The current minister of European security,” Lucy replied.

 

“William Montferrat,” slipped from Malik’s mouth as he felt his blood escaping towards his extremities.

 

It all clicked now. Someone in that position would obviously know about the problems in the security which the Assassins exploited for their own gain. It would be painfully difficult to make this work for them.

 

“Isn’t he expected to run for the presidency next year?” Altaïr asked and Malik was a bit impressed that Altaïr had actually paid enough attention to politics to know it.

 

“Yes he is. It’s also probably why he is attending the championships since he needs more public exposure than what he currently has. All the important public figures will be there,” Malik answered.

 

The sports events had been able to attract huge crowds and appearances by important people throughout the ages. As nations and athletes from different sports clubs faced each other more than just glory was on stake. A lot of passive aggressive messages were conveyed during such events and big nations hammered down how powerful they were by winning virtually everything.

 

In European championships there were only four nations competing but even then it didn’t lessen the impact of the event. Someone aspiring to become a president couldn’t miss such an event.

 

“And the assassination needs to be something that’s clearly an assassination. Poisons and other things that could be mistaken as something else such as inciting a riot are forbidden. We need to send a message.”

 

Malik found himself scowling and when he glanced at Altaïr he was doing the same. There were so many factors in this job that could go wrong.

 

“So you want me to sneak my way to a probably very well guarded, slightly paranoid man in bright daylight and then slit his neck?” Altaïr was clearly questioning the sanity of the whole thing.

 

Malik couldn’t help but agree with Altaïr’s logic. The whole thing was outrageously dangerous and difficult.

 

Lucy stared the both of them, looking extremely judgemental as if they were a couple of insolent children. Malik supposed his distaste for the idea showed much cleared on him than he had intended.

 

“Yes. I am not the one who decided on this. These are orders straight from the boss,” which meant they were direct orders from Rashid ad-Din Sinan. There was no defying them.

 

Malik sighed and ran his hand through his hair in an effort to collect his thoughts. He knew he needed more information about the job but he wasn’t quite sure from where he should begin. There was simply too much unknown about it all.

 

Altaïr had gone very still and very silent as soon as Al Mualim was mentioned. Malik knew Altaïr was extremely loyal to their leader and was probably just thinking how he could please the master the most.

 

All Malik felt was sourness when Al Mualim was mentioned. Years of berating and silent judgement tended to do that to a person.

 

“Are there any floorplans of the arena available for us or any other information we could use for our advantage?” Malik asked because now more than ever he didn’t want to fumble in the dark now that the stakes were so high.

 

Lucy shook her head. “We are still securing those. An intelligence agent is currently scouting the area and another one is trying to get their hands on a detailed floorplan. There is still time.”

 

“So all we can do is to mentally prepare then?” Malik could feel his nerves now.

 

Lucy shrugged her shoulders and crossed her arms over her chest. It was obvious she didn’t have anything more to offer for them.

 

“Let’s get out of here,” Altaïr said and stood up from the chair. Malik nodded and was more than happy to follow.

 

He had to remind himself how there was still plenty of time for the intelligence agents to bring additional information about the case so he wouldn’t spiral into an uncontrollable anxiety. It was going to be the most difficult job they had ever taken on.

 

He walked side by side with Altaïr to the lift. Both of them kept silent as both of them probably contemplated the oncoming job. Though if they succeeded in it there most definitely would be great rewards for them, and not just that but respect. Malik didn’t really care much for any material rewards but he did crave for being recognised and this job was his way out of the rest of the Assassins’ shadows.

 

They didn’t speak about the job until they got into the indoor arena underneath the buildings. It was too risky to discuss murder when a possibility that an ordinary worker that wasn’t aware of the hidden business Sicarius indulged in could walk in on them any minute. Do not compromise the Brotherhood, Malik reminded himself.

 

But once they were in the arena they were safe from the outside and could talk freely. It still came as a bit of surprise when it was Altaïr who was the first one to speak.

 

“What do you think of the next job?”

 

Malik contemplated for a while as to what he should answer before replying. “I think it’s going to be a high risk and high difficulty case. I am a bit baffled as to why it needs to be a such a direct assassination.”

 

Altaïr had stripped down to shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt. He was obviously feeling cold the way he kept rubbing his forearms.

 

“The reasons the high ups have are none of our concern. But yes, it’s definitely a very demanding assassination this time around. It makes me thrilled.” And to prove his point Altaïr grinned like a horrible maniac.

 

Of course Altaïr would be thrilled. For him the whole world seemed to be about challenges and then showing how easily he could overcome those challenges. What a shame the rest of the world didn’t live in that kind of fantasy world.

 

Malik rolled his eyes and continued to tighten his shoelaces.

 

“What about your competition?” he asked and watched as Altaïr froze in the middle of some light stretches.

 

“I’ll figure it out.”

 

Malik sighed and joined Altaïr on doing some light stretches to warm up before running. He wasn’t going to get Altaïr to relinquish his hold on the kill by pressuring him on too much.

 

They finished their stretches and took off into a jog in some unspoken agreement.

 

Altaïr set a pace that was slightly faster than what Malik was used to and it took him a while to get adjusted. But as he went he could feel his feet getting lighter and lighter.

 

Soon he found himself enjoying running with someone at his side and before he knew it they were going at a proper running pace. Somehow Altaïr’s presence managed to bring out the side of him that enjoyed a challenge and trying to keep up with Altaïr was more than enough challenge for him.

 

“Feeling ready to give up?” Altaïr asked between breaths and gave him an infuriatingly smug smirk.

 

“No way,” Malik replied and just picked up the pace even further.

 

He knew he was high on endorphins and it was probably the reason why he was suddenly enjoying the company so much. But he didn’t care as he feet carried him over the firm surface of the track. He didn’t want to allow petty thoughts to ruin it for him.

 

Then they slowed down before stopping entirely. Malik was quite badly out of breath and walked to his usual place in front of the pole vaulting area where he sat down. He never pushed himself so much when he was running by himself. There simply was no need for it.

 

Altaïr of course was barely breathing any harder than usual. But it was to be expected since he followed a strict training regime. It didn’t stop the bang of jealousy in Malik though.

 

Malik was doing more stretches to get himself more flexible when Altaïr appeared in front of the pole vaulting box. Malik leaned towards the floor and saw Altaïr eyeing the bar before turning towards him.

 

“You are going to attempt to vault?” Altaïr asked.

 

Malik raised his eyebrow but didn’t stop his stretches.

 

“Yes,” he answered with some hesitation.

 

“You shouldn’t,” Altaïr said bluntly.

 

Malik felt his jaw hitting the ground. He felt like Altaïr had hit him with a dead fish.

 

“What?!”

 

Altaïr rolled his eyes as if the whole thing was the most obvious in the world. What a shame that apparently they didn’t speak the same language as Malik was only feeling offended instead of whatever Altaïr thought he should feel like.

 

“You shouldn’t _attempt_ anything. You should simply do it,” Altaïr stated as if he was imparting with some great wisdom of the universe.

 

Malik got up from the floor, feeling an irritation crawl beneath his skin like an unscratchable itch.

 

“You set a verbal trap for me so you could feel superior to me and here I thought we could for once have something we both agreed on!” Malik snapped and poked Altaïr in the chest.

 

Then he marched to the side to pick a pole from the trolley holding all the various sizes and strengths. He had not intended to be angry at Altaïr today after his probably unjust burst of anger yesterday.

 

Altaïr followed him and seemed to be infinitely interested in how Malik chose his pole from the way he kept following his movements as he tried to decide on one. Malik just wanted to whack Altaïr with a pole.

 

“I didn’t set a trap for you and I have no reason to feel superior over you.” And the way Altaïr managed to keep relatively calm enraged Malik even further.

 

“Then what were you trying to do?” Malik pulled off a pole from the pile and started making it towards the pole vaulting mattress.

 

Altaïr grinned and Malik was just about ready to hit him. “To set you off, of course.”

 

“Well, good job with that then. My day is properly ruined.” Malik set the pole against the box and leaned on it, bending the pole slightly.

 

“Is it now?” Altaïr asked while Malik marched to the familiar place where he would set off.

 

“Yes it is. Everything was fine until you opened your mouth.” It seemed to amuse Altaïr to no end.

 

Malik was determined to wipe that annoying expression and leaned briefly backwards to gauge the distance before raising the pole. Altaïr found ever more ways to crawl under his skin.

 

Still fuming, he dashed. All he had in his mind was to prove what an idiot Altaïr was. The fury coursed through his limbs giving him more strength to his movements than usual.

 

He lowered the pole against the box and readied for the take off. He was going to give Altaïr the middle finger after he was done.

 

Then the door opened and a flood of laughter and chatter interrupted his concentration. He left go of the pole which sprung slightly backwards while he himself ended up face first in the cushions.

 

He realised he had been just about to vault spurred by his anger and then it all had evaporated just like that. He didn’t move for the fear of someone seeing the disappointment he was feeling.

 

He could feel the mattress dip under someone’s weight and glanced briefly on his side. Altaïr was sitting there retying his shoes for some inexplicable reason.

 

Malik planted his face on the cushions again. They smelled like dust and were not all that comfortable but he was allowed to have his moment of self reflection.

 

A hand fell on his shoulder blade which urged him to turn over. He did so with great reluctance.

 

“I need the place. So if you don’t mind moving,” Altaïr said but there was no hint of the usual gloating in his voice. Sure it was delivered with bluntness but it wasn’t meant to be mean.

 

Laughter erupted somewhere and Malik could recognise the voices belonging to Ezio and Arno.

 

He stood up and got on his feet. Not feeling up to exercising any longer he just took up a jog to cool his muscles off.

 

He was joined by the two idiots who kept shoving each other while running and stopping to laugh at something every once in a while. Every now and then they tried to get Malik into their childish game but he refused.

 

In the end he went to sit on one of the benches at the side of the track. He leaned against the cool concrete wall which stuck slightly to his sweaty back.

 

Altaïr vaulted effortlessly over the bar even if Malik could see a few minor mistakes in his form. Malik couldn’t help but envy the man at that moment.

 

Then there was of course the two idiots that completed the asshole trio, leaving Malik wondering if it was wise for him to linger around the arena at all. He wasn’t really in the mood for bullshit.

 

The two then stopped their running. They were already panting from exhaustion. Apparently Altaïr had been right that Ezio had spent the last half a year whoring and had not exercised.

 

“Why are you even here?” he asked the two of them in a less than hostile manner.

 

“Isn’t it obvious? We are getting back into shape,” Ezio answered him while still breathing rather hard.

 

“You mean you are getting back into shape and I am just here to accompany you,” Arno argued and poked Ezio in the stomach.

 

“I beat you so many times, my friend. I say you are also in need of exercise.” Ezio poked Arno back.

 

“Clearly a diet of red wine and women on the side works wonders on people,” Malik rolled his eyes.

 

“I’ll take the wine any day. If it’s French that is,” Arno said, revealing what kind of closet drunk he really was.

 

“Please don’t. The last time you did the both of you were blacklisted and I’ve been forced to cover your asses since then,” Malik replied quickly before Ezio could inevitably try to argue something else.

 

“But that is why we are here, my friend. The blacklisting is lifting up a week from now and we both have jobs scheduled immediately afterwards,” Ezio explained while fixing up his ponytail that had gotten loose while running.

 

“You are not my friend,” Malik argued but neither of the assholes paid him any attention.

 

“We are going to take back the glory you stole from us while we were inactive,” Arno said and immediately turned his attention to the tangle of hair Ezio had managed to make out of his ponytail.

 

Malik wanted to throw something at the two stupid peacocks that were currently engaged in a conversation as to how to best take care of their absolutely fabulous hair. If Arno had only known that the last job he had taken on was meant for him instead of Malik and how Al Mualim had even let him know that, the Frenchman’s brain would have probably exploded from the sheer delight.

 

Malik crossed his arms and dug his left hand’s fingers painfully into his biceps on purpose as to not shout profanities.

 

“Can you flip a car with that arm?” Arno asked and pointed at Malik’s left arm. Ezio had somehow managed to tame his ponytail.

 

“No.”

 

“What is the point of having a body enhancement if you can’t even do something like that?” Ezio asked because the two of them were complete idiots.

 

Malik wanted to ignore the two and for a while just watched Altaïr taking out the hurdles from a storage place and starting to place them on the track. He was interrupted by obnoxious and obviously impatient tapping of foot on the ground.

 

He frowned.

 

“Would you prefer me one handed?” he asked with a bite. It was none of their business.

 

Ezio shrugged and Arno made some small comment how his arm looked creepy. Malik wished they would just leave him alone.

 

“So why don’t you fuck off to wherever the hell you came from?” he snapped and the two just cracked into a laughter.

 

He was then luckily saved by Altaïr who came to challenge the two to a hurdling race. Malik declined politely but looked on as the two were more than chipper to be humiliated by Altaïr.

 

The door to the arena opened once more, revealing Leonardo who had quite obviously forgotten to change clothes since yesterday from the way the clothes were all wrinkled and hung weirdly on his frame. Not that his usual get up was much better but now he looked even more like a hobo.

 

Malik waved Leonardo to come over which his friend seemed to be more than happy to do. Malik had been wondering what was up with Leonard since he had not received any texts from him and he had avoided looking at any gossips.

 

“Hi!” Leonardo greeted and sat down next to him.

 

Malik was more than happy for the distraction of the three idiots goofing with the hurdles. Or rather Ezio and Arno fell on their faces while Altaïr run them with ease.

 

“Hi. What are you doing here?”

 

Leonardo smiled at him and then pointed at Ezio who was currently somehow impossibly tangled with a hurdle while Arno and Altaïr laughed at him. Malik just frowned.

 

“Ezio asked me to come and see him practice. He is getting back into the roster and we will have less time to spend together.”

 

“I see. So how did your date go?”

 

Leonardo’s face fell immediately and Malik tried to understand what he had said wrong. But Leonardo resumed his usual demeanour rather quickly.

 

“We just danced a little, drank too much, and I ended up sleeping on his couch.” And it was quite evident Leonardo was disappointed in the result.

 

“You didn’t even kiss?” Malik asked even though he felt like he might be making Leonardo feel worse about it.

 

“No. He kept flirting with girls the entire evening. I think it’s a habit for him and does so without thinking.” Leonardo kept smiling but his voice betrayed his true feelings.

 

This time around Malik didn’t feel like prodding more or telling Leonardo how right he had been. Even if he really wanted to say just that.

 

They fell into a companionable silence where they just kept watching the three Assassins making an ass out of themselves. Ezio played the part of a fool while Altaïr effortlessly excelled at everything and Arno tried uselessly challenging him over and over again. It might have been funny to watch if the people doing it weren’t such horrible human beings.

 

Malik finally broke the silence with something that had been bugging him from yesterday and when he did he spoke softly and with some hesitation.

 

“Do you think I am avoiding my problems?”

 

Leonardo looked at him with his eyes wide open as if he was speaking crazy talk.

 

“What brought this on?”

 

Malik bit his lip slightly before answering. The reasons annoyed him to no end.

 

“Altaïr told me yesterday I should deal with my problems and today he tried to egg me on with the purpose of making me forget my fears.” Malik tapped his fingers on his knees in a steady rhythm.

 

A mischievous smile spread to Leonardo’s features before he started obviously contemplating something. It was obvious that his friend knew something he did not but didn’t say it.

 

“I don’t think it’s quite as simple as that but I would say he’s on the right track. Would you tell me about Kadar if I asked?” Leonardo talked like his words alone might shatter him.

 

Malik recoiled. “No,” and the response was so automatic he was surprised by it himself.

 

When his brother had died and he had lost his arm he had not allowed himself to show any signs of weakness. He had just pushed everything out of his mind and refused to talk about it, claiming he had already dealt with it and accepted what had happened.

 

But it wasn’t quite as simple as that either. If it were he probably wouldn’t have even stayed an Assassin.

 

“See? That right there proves my point. He is just worried about you just like I am. I’ve seen how things have somehow taken a turn to worse for you lately. You won’t talk about that either.”

 

What was there to talk about? How Al Mualim wanted to throw him out or how he was being berated over and over again? How he had no idea who he was to trust or how his own nerves were failing him?

 

He didn’t even bother on commenting on Leonardo’s remarks because they both knew Leonardo was right in his assessment.

 

“Altaïr is an ass,” he said because it was all he could think about to answer to his friend.

 

Leonardo chuckled.

 

“An ass that cares about you.”

 

“What do you even know about him?” Malik asked because he was feeling like arguing for the sake of arguing. Arguing came to him naturally – Emotionally loaded conversations did not.

 

“Just what Ezio has told me and what I can read between the lines from you,” Leonardo answered with an ease.

 

“And what would that be?”

 

Malik turned to inspect his fingernails just to have something for his hands to do. Leonardo refused to take his obvious baits.

 

“That Altaïr is probably just pulling your pigtails.”

 

Malik gave his friend a murderous glare which Leonardo just shrugged off. He had probably given too many of his glares to Leonardo and his friend had grown immune to them.

 

“He is a self-entitled prick with enough arrogance to fill a swimming pool,” he replied quickly.

 

“He just lacks social skills. You are very similar in that respect.” Leonardo reached for Malik’s left arm and then scrutinised it while Malik tried to make sense of everything.

 

The asshole trio was clearing the hurdles from the track. Ezio was limping slightly which was probably a product of tripping one too many times on the hurdles.

 

Malik sighed and rubbed his face in exasperation.

 

“What should I do?”

 

Leonardo gave his hand a squeeze and smiled like the sun.

 

“I can’t answer that question but—”

 

“Leonardo!” Ezio shouted interrupting whatever Leonardo was about to say. Malik’s hand was dropped in favour of waving at the Italian.

 

“Come and watch me do a backflip!” Ezio jumped up and down like a kangaroo on speed.

 

Leonardo gave him an apologetic look and got up from the bench.

 

Malik decided he was done dealing with the idiots and headed to the shower.

 

As he stood underneath the shower he couldn’t help but replay his earlier thoughts with the added information he had just gained. It was so confusing.

 

The door to the shower opened and Malik glanced at the intruder. It was Altaïr half-naked with just a towel around his hips which he soon discarded on top of one of the sinks in the shower room.

 

Malik turned his gaze back to the tile wall which he stubbornly stared instead of watching Altaïr’s ridiculously toned body. In the light Leonardo had shed to him he knew Altaïr had feelings towards him but he wasn’t sure if he reciprocated.

 

His immediate response was to deny everything but the idea left him with a uneasy feeling. It just didn’t sit right with him.

 

“Already tired of your idiotic friends?” he asked and scrubbed himself with unnecessary harshness in an effort to wipe the image of Altaïr’s body out of his mind.

 

“They are kinda rowdy but they are actually good people,” Altaïr answered him and turned one of the showers on.

 

“Is that why you’ve been bullying me since upper secondary school?” he spat.

 

He turned around and found Altaïr not subtly checking him out. They had fucked before so it wasn’t like they had not seen each other naked but it still managed to surprise him.

 

“Eyes are up here.” Malik pointed at his head.

 

Altaïr was clearly very uncomfortable now, judging by the way he rubbed down his arms in an exaggerated manner. The actions were just too deliberate to be anything else but attempts to cover his unease.

 

Malik narrowed his eyes and glared at Altaïr as Altaïr just stretched on the silence.

 

“It’s complicated. It’s just... Nevermind. I don’t think anything I could say at this point would make a difference to you.”

 

Altaïr’s answer grated on his nerves. In fact it grated on his nerves that Altaïr was right in his point too and anything he might have said would have infuriated him.

 

“What do you even know about complicated? Did you ever lose your arm or is your every act being questioned constantly?” Malik snapped before he could think his word through properly. He wanted a reaction out of Altaïr so he could just return to loathing him like he always had.

 

Altaïr gave him a reaction and Malik was just about to retaliate as Altaïr looked ready to punch him in the face. It would be once more proven what kind of selfish asshole Altaïr was and Malik could just hate him.

 

“Is that how you feel like? What does losing your arm have to do with anything and who questions your every action? Sounds like A-level attention whoring to me.” Altaïr crossed his arms and glared at Malik. “What the fuck are you even talking about?”

 

Malik snapped his mouth closed. This wasn’t how he had envisioned the argument going at all.

 

He needed to get out of the shower room immediately. There was not telling what would happen if he stayed but he was sure it wouldn’t be pretty.

 

He punched the shower off and made a beeline to the door. Altaïr had not returned back to his shower for some reason and was just staring at him.

 

As he was about to push the door open Altaïr spoke up again. “Are you just going to run away without explaining anything?”

 

“No,” Malik said and pushed the door open, escaping to the other side.

 

Luckily Altaïr did not follow him but he didn’t waste time in the changing room. He just simply threw on his spare clothes and all but run out of the door and the underground arena.

 

Only when he had collected his phone and was on his way back home did he allow himself to actually think what had just gone down. He breathed in deep and let his shoulders sag.

 

The gravel underneath his shoes crunched in a familiar and soothing manner as he walked. But his head was filled up with confusion.

 

He thought about Leonardo’s words and then Altaïr’s. A weird sort of ache was stabbing him in the gut and an odd feeling of guilt settled on his shoulders.

 

There was no way Altaïr had any point whatsoever, right? Suddenly he wasn’t all that sure about it. He realised he had never given Altaïr any information as to how he felt and just immediately jumped over all the other emotions in favour of just being angry.

 

Why did he even argue with Altaïr? For the sake of just arguing? What was the point in that?

 

He clutched his head in a desperate attempt to somehow grasp one of the thoughts before it could slip away. It didn’t help the slightest bit.

 


	8. A double date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all my readers for all the support and I'm sorry this took so long but things just happened IRL that made writing this take so long. Like for example I hit a deer with my car last week and it had to be towed away.
> 
> But to make up for it this is a really long chapter and should be more light hearted than what has been going on in the story recently. I really love all the comments I've gotten for this story because I'm trying to improve my writing so I'm putting extra effort into everything. It's good to know that effort isn't wasted.
> 
> Thank you to DarthTofu who had to beta this massive 9k words chapter :D

Malik knew it was already afternoon from the way the shadows were cast on his bedroom walls. He had not moved from his bed since early morning when he had very deliberately hidden his phone underneath a pile of towels after muting it.

 

Cadence was sleeping on top of him and obviously didn’t mind his current state of total breakdown.

 

He knew there were places he was supposed to be. He was sure there were more than few angry messages in his phone and he was fully aware there was his weekly psychiatrist appointment with Rauf.

 

A normal person wouldn’t have dealt with their problems like he did. He hid underneath his blanket drifting into light sleep every now and again just to wake up for a while to stare at the wall.

 

Leonardo for example would have found a bottle of wine from somewhere and baked a cake which he would have taken to Altaïr, apologised, and talked things through. It all sounded so simple.

 

But here he was hugging his pillow, feeling slightly too hot while hiding from the world. At least the bed was comfortable and the sheets had a vague scent of the detergent he washed them with.

 

He didn’t have any greater plan, except to avoid all human contact for the day and try to think things through while napping whenever he felt like it. He wasn’t even sure if he could even sort out his thoughts like this.

 

Somebody rang the doorbell startled him slightly. Cadence gripped him with his claws through the blanket.

 

He wasn’t going to get up to answer the door or to let whoever was there inside. What he did was to repeat ‘ _Go away_ ’ persistently in his mind as if he could will away whoever was outside his apartment.

 

The doorbell rang again. Malik squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his head against the pillow with a force. It was a desperate attempt to wilfully ignore the door.

 

Whoever was trying to get his attention would eventually go away and leave him alone. He just needed to pretend like he wasn’t at home.

 

He relaxed once some time had passed from the doorbell ringing but he tensed up as soon as he heard the very distinct sounds of keys turning in the lock. It had to be someone from the Brotherhood because nobody else had even access to the building let alone a key that could open his door.

 

The door clacked open, followed by the communicating door being pushed against the wall. Then the front door was pulled shut.

 

Malik could feel his heartbeat racing despite the knowledge that the intruder was a friendly one. He still didn’t get up.

 

“Malik? Are you home? I came to check on you.” Malik instantly recognised the voice belonging to Rauf.

 

He cursed silently. Of course Rauf would have personally come to see him if he didn’t turn up at Sicarius.

 

He could hear Rauf’s footsteps as the man walked through his small apartment. Rauf had not left his shoes at the door and it annoyed Malik to no end.

 

He ignored his itch to yell at the man and tried to think of any way he could salvage the situation. Nothing good enough came to his mind so he decided to pretend he was still sleeping.

 

He tracked the footsteps until they were clearly in the same room as he was. Then they stopped.

 

“Here you are,” Rauf said and it was surprisingly relief Malik could detect in the tone instead of the condemnation he had expected.

 

Cadence meowed at Rauf. The cat was clearly excited to have more company even if he didn’t leave his spot on top of Malik.

 

Malik tried his hardest to appear very relaxed and very much asleep.

 

He could feel the mattress dip under the weight as Rauf sat on it even if he couldn’t see. Cadence had started knitting.

 

“I know you are not asleep,” Rauf chuckled.

 

Malik sighed and felt himself deflate. Since all his dignity was gone anyway he didn’t get up or even change his position so he could see Rauf.

 

“Hello, Rauf,” he mumbled into his pillow.

 

“I was worried when you didn’t show up for your appointment and then you didn’t pick up your phone either.”

 

Malik shrugged and Cadence fell off of him from the movement.

 

“I just don’t want to deal with anything today. I’m so tired of everything being complicated,” Malik replied.

 

“What is so complicated?” Rauf asked and Malik stared at the shadows on the wall.

 

“I said something stupid to someone and now I regret it. I was also told that I’m avoiding my problems and a very unexpected party is suddenly concerned about me. I don’t know how to deal with any of this.” Malik gripped the pillow.

 

“Do you think there’s any truth to that statement that you are avoiding your problems?”

 

Malik wanted to say ‘no’ so very hard because he really hated the thought that he wasn’t fighting whatever it was that was bothering him head on. He was confrontational by nature for better or for worse and he knew it.

 

“Yes,” he admitted in a voice that was barely audible. It felt like all the air was knocked out of him.

 

Rauf patted him on the shoulder which made him flinch involuntarily.

 

“I am really proud of you, Malik. I know it must have taken a lot for you to be able to say this.”

 

The words made Malik finally turn around and get up. He rolled himself up in the blanket as if he was a cocoon with only his head sticking out.

 

He searched Rauf’s features for any sign of sarcasm or other malignant intent but couldn’t find any. Rauf had small crinkles around his eyes from laughing and looked genuinely happy.

 

Cadence purred loudly, filling the silence as Malik was trying to find words. Any words he wanted to say.

 

“I don’t want to feel like this. I don’t want this to weigh me down. I don’t know how to help myself,” Malik said and could feel his frustration surfacing.

 

“You don’t have to do any of it alone. I am here to help and you obviously have friends more than willing to help. I know you are proud and ridiculously independent but it’s fine to ask help every now and again.”

 

Malik stared at an especially fascinating wrinkle in the sheet while trying to come up with something to say.

 

“Who told you you were avoiding your problems?” Rauf asked, pulling Malik’s attention back to the present.

 

“It was Altaïr and then Leonardo confirmed his words.”

 

Rauf made an interesting expression for a while before he spoke up again, “Is Altaïr also the unexpected person who is concerned about you?”

 

“Yes,” Malik answered and narrowed his eyes to scrutinise Rauf.

 

“I can’t say I’m all that surprised. The problem with the both of you is your very limited ability to understand basic human interactions. Combining two people like that is bound to lead to clashes,” Rauf explained while petting Cadence.

 

“But why does he suddenly try to pretend he cares? He and his idiotic friends have been horrible ever since I moved here, and that was already a long time ago.” He attempted to gesture with his hands to accentuate his point but ended up awkwardly shaking his blanket cocoon a little.

 

Rauf seemed to be amused by his antics.

 

“Has he truly? You just said that he has been showing concern towards you lately.” Rauf scratched Cadence behind the ears.

 

Malik stopped to think for a while before answering “You are correct in that but I find it very hard to believe he is being sincere. Arno and Ezio were complete douchebags just yesterday.”

 

“People change, Malik. Altaïr is not the same as his friends and I know for a fact that you aren’t the same as you were back then when you first met. You should think about this.”

 

Malik turned his gaze away from Rauf’s well meaning sympathetic eyes and stared at the wall. The question of if he were the same as back then echoed inside his head. It was a very clever question indeed.

 

His immediate reaction was to say that of course he wasn’t the same but on a closer inspection he realised surprisingly little of him had changed. He was still the same angry at the world boy he had been back then except that now he was also closed off and he was supposed to be an adult.

 

He clutched at the fabric of his blanket.

 

It was with much hesitation he could say “I don’t think I’ve grown as a person all that much.”

 

He still didn’t look at Rauf.

 

“You never gave yourself a chance to move on because you feared it would make you seem weak.”

 

“Yes,” Malik admitted and wanted to bury his head into his hands but couldn’t do it because he was still wrapped up in the blanket.

 

“But since you were able to analyse yourself to this extent it shows that you are now ready for that process.” Rauf smiled and it always amazed Malik how the man could be so compassionate towards other people. It was a quality Malik himself lacked.

 

“It shows you have already changed as a person.”

 

Malik could feel his chest constricting from an emotion he couldn’t name. He tried to dodge Rauf’s words out of habit because sarcasm was how he had always dealt with everything. “Because reasonable adults curl up into their beds and refuse to go out,” and he rolled his eyes.

 

Rauf chuckled.

 

“You would be surprised as to how many people resort to dealing things like that and it’s fine every now and again as long as it doesn’t become a habit. You’ve got a lot to deal with in your life. A lesser person would have broken under the stress you are put into. Think about that.” Rauf was sickeningly understanding and Malik knew it wasn’t just because of his job because he had seen a lot of psychologists and psychiatrists during his life. Not all of them were like this.

 

“Then what about Altaïr? I don’t know how to deal with him and I’m constantly afraid that if I get too friendly with him he will betray me somehow. I don’t want to be played as the fool. I don’t want to be hurt more,” Malik explained and could feel how the undefined emotion was now definitely taking the shape of agitation and anxiety.

 

Cadence was sniffing Rauf’s beard with fascination which would have been amusing if Malik wasn’t feeling these other emotions at that moment.

 

“Ask him to make his friends stop ganging on you. If he is able to do so he cares about you at least as much as he does about his friends. It is very hard for people to go against peer pressure and generally people won’t do so unless they have really good reasons to,” Rauf replied and removed the noisy cat from getting into his beard.

 

Malik frowned as he tried to get a taste of Rauf’s suggestion. It did make logical sense to him but there was the irrational part of him that simply refused to listen to the reason. It demanded him to question everything.

 

“So you are saying I should just go to his door, knock on it, and when he comes to answer tell him ‘ _Hi! I would really like your idiotic friends to stop being assholes towards me?_ ”

 

Rauf burst into laughter and Malik couldn’t help but feel more lighter as well. Some people had a contagious good mood. Rauf was one of those people.

 

“Why not? Well, maybe with quite not those words because I imagine putting things a bit more nicely yields better results. But neither of you is very good with complicated insinuations or subtle tones so why not go for the direct approach?” Rauf replied.

 

“Human relationships are so complicated.” Malik finally released his right hand from the blanket cocoon so he could scratch his scalp. His hair felt greasy and filthy, making him internally cringe at his unkempt condition.

 

Rauf nodded. “They are. If we were animals we would still have the same basic emotions such as love, jealousy, sadness, and fear but the difference would be that we would be driven by the need to just pass on our genes as much as we can. Humans have all these things that come with higher cognition and being a social animal. Everything suddenly becomes so much more difficult. But imagine Cadence here who has been neutered: He lacks even the need to pass on his genes so he just spends his days figuring how much he can eat and get attention from people.”

 

The thought of how easy it would be to be a cat had passed his mind several times during his life. Though he didn’t particularly enjoy the thought of getting his balls cut off. He rather liked his balls.

 

The conversation then slipped into a discussion about selfish genes and the ongoing debate as to whether or not people actually had free will or if they just thought they had. It was a subject Malik was much more willing to discuss than his own feelings. He wasn’t good at putting his feelings into words and quite often he didn’t know where the feelings even came from.

 

In the end Rauf left his apartment with the parting words of how he should think about the things he has in common with Altaïr rather than about the things they don’t have. There was a lot for him to think about but surprisingly enough Rauf coming in and discussing things with him had clarified his mind.

 

He threw the blanket aside and finally got up properly from his bed.

 

He inspected the floor for footprints but didn’t find any as he made his way to the shower. He really hated when people walked into his home with shoes on. It was one of those things you just didn’t do.

 

He made a mental note to scrub the floor at some point anyway because he couldn’t stop thinking how there probably was all kinds of nasty things which had fallen from Rauf’s shoes, even if he didn’t see them. But he would do that later because now he was going to use his newly found energy for good.

 

He took a quick shower and towel dried his hair. Then he fished for his phone underneath the towel stack but absolutely refused to start looking through the copious amounts of calls and messages he had received. He needed to keep the momentum going before he could chicken out or just procrastinate infinitely.

 

It didn’t take him all that long to find himself outside a door – Altaïr’s door to be exact. He fiddled with his phone slightly as his nerves were starting to catch on him.

 

But before he could back off from the situation he rang the doorbell. He felt his heart beating wildly and he realised that meeting Altaïr out of all the people in the world was making him nervous.

 

Altaïr simply didn’t deserve any other emotional response other than anger and frustration.

 

The door opened, making him jump in surprise. He had of course expected the door to open at some point but when it actually happened he wasn’t nearly as prepared for it as he had thought.

 

Altaïr looked at him with obvious confusion.

 

“So you got my message?” Altaïr asked.

 

Malik quirked his eyebrow.

 

“I have no idea about any message,” he replied truthfully. Altaïr eyed him with clear disbelief.

 

“I haven’t checked my phone today,” Malik clarified.

 

Thankfully Altaïr just shrugged and didn’t question him further.

 

“We are going to see a movie. I thought you might want to come. I think your friend Leonardo is coming too,” Altaïr explained while scratching his arm. The ‘we’ in Altaïr’s speech obviously referred to Ezio and Arno which made Malik wary of the proposal – even if Leonardo was involved too.

 

“Only if you make sure your friend and cousin won’t get on my nerves like they did yesterday.” He remembered the advice he had gotten and put it into a good use.

 

Altaïr looked baffled as if he couldn’t understand what Malik had just said. Malik felt a falling to the bottom of his stomach and started readying himself for a disappointment.

 

“I didn’t know it bothered you that much.”

 

Malik grit his teeth and fought to keep calm.

 

“It wasn’t a clue that I literally told them to fuck off?”

 

“You always tell me to fuck off and I know you don’t mean it.” Altaïr looked even more confused than before.

 

Malik crossed his arms in defence. “It’s completely different.”

 

It was clear Altaïr was trying to understand what he was saying from the curious expressions that went through his features rapidly, giving away just what he was thinking at any given moment.

 

“I don’t understand but I’ll tell them to lay their fingers off you since it makes you uncomfortable,” Altaïr said and grabbed his phone to start typing something on it furiously. Possibly message to the rest of the asshole trio.

 

Malik felt the need to explain a bit further since Altaïr was actually willing to work with him on this. Malik couldn’t help but feel like he had achieved a minor victory.

 

“Look, maybe you three think that you are being genuinely funny but I lack sense of humour. Or maybe I just don’t understand how these things work because my brain is wired funnily. I don’t know. But I’m not saying this to be an ass or a spoil sport but because I don’t want to feel bad every time I run into them.”

 

Altaïr looked at him with a seriousness Malik had only ever seen him exhibit when he was competing or on the job. There was no hint of the arrogant smirk or the maniacal grin and he knew Altaïr was really listening him.

 

“You should have said so in the first place,” Altaïr replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. And maybe it was but he was just overthinking everything.

 

“We are leaving in a bit. Are you ready to go?”

 

Malik suddenly became very aware of his the attire which consisted of T-shirt and jeans since he had only intended to confront Altaïr and not go out into the city. There was no way he could go anywhere like this.

 

“I need to put on a long sleeved shirt and gloves,” he motioned towards his left arm which wasn’t covered by anything at that moment.

 

And because apparently Altaïr had not apparently surprised him enough that day he asked, “Do you mind if I come over while we wait for the others?”

 

Malik stood for half a minute there just trying to understand what Altaïr had said before managing to say “I don’t mind,” even if he actually did mind. Suddenly Altaïr was invading his own private life and even if his home did hold only few very personal items it felt weird to let Altaïr in.

 

He gestured Altaïr to follow him and they very quickly moved from the floor between their apartments into Malik’s home.

 

Malik immediately scanned the apartment for anything embarrassing that might be on display but didn’t find anything. It was a relief for him.

 

Cadence charged towards them immediately as soon as they had kicked off their shoes, meowing with obvious enthusiasm. But instead of the usual rubbing against Malik’s legs, Cadence chose to start forcefully snuggling with Altaïr who was crouched on the floor.

 

Malik raised his eyebrow questioningly at Altaïr and maybe he was feeling a bit jealous that his cat had chosen Altaïr over him.

 

“What?” Altaïr asked and scratched Cadence under his chin.

 

“He seems to like you. Whenever Shaun comes over he escapes under the bed and stays there until he’s gone.”

 

“I did spend an entire weekend with him, you know. Are you going to change your clothes or not?”

 

Malik left Altaïr to pet Cadence and found his way to his wardrobe where he was suddenly consumed by indecisiveness. He pulled out several shirts and threw them on his bed where he tried to assess which ones would be the best ones.

 

For some bizarre reason choosing the right kind of clothing seemed more important than ever before and he couldn’t figure out why. It was frustrating to no end.

 

It wasn’t like he had much variety in his clothes. Most of his clothing were collared shirts in various colours, vests, and pullovers.

 

He was trying to figure out if he wanted to wear a dark blue or a white collared shirt when Altaïr shouted “Are you done already?” from the direction of his kitchen.

 

“In a bit!” he replied and threw the dark blue one away. At least he would be somewhat cooler while wearing a white shirt.

 

Then he put on a vest and decided he was good enough to go to the outside world.

 

He found Altaïr in the kitchen inspecting the insides of his cupboards. The nosy asshole didn’t even have decency to look embarrassed when Malik cleared his throat to indicate he was fully aware of his doings.

 

Altaïr closed the cupboard door and asked, “Where is all your stuff?”

 

Malik was utterly confused by the question.

 

“What stuff? I’ve got plenty of stuff.”

 

Altaïr looked unamused by his reply.

 

“I don’t mean plates and mugs. Where are all your dirty secrets? Like some horrendous decorations your grandma must have given to you or the giant dildo you masturbate with?” And Altaïr even had the gall to look annoyed that he had not found anything. It was also interesting how the first two things he had brought up were decorations and dildos like they were somehow embarrassing in equal measures.

 

Malik rolled his eyes.

 

“Maybe my grandma has more sense than give me useless junk and maybe I have no need for a sex toy to get off.”

 

“I can’t believe anyone related to you has much sense and you probably would benefit from a good dildo,” Altaïr insisted.

 

Malik sighed, “Why are we discussing this again? I should be offended that you snooped around my home and you should be ashamed of being caught.”

 

But somehow he wasn’t offended and it was clear as a day that Altaïr was nowhere near the state of being ashamed of his actions.

 

“I was bored. You took so long.” Altaïr shrugged.

 

“The others should be here any minute now. Ezio send me a message,” Altaïr said while walking past Malik with the probable intention of snooping around more. Cadence followed eagerly behind.

 

Malik trailed behind because he didn’t want Altaïr to make a mess, especially since he was obviously going to his bedroom.

 

“Why are all the curtains closed? You wouldn’t need to have the lights on if they were drawn,” Altaïr asked while stopping in the doorway to the bedroom.

 

Malik rolled his eyes, again.

 

“If you ever stopped to actually think about these things you would know. I don’t need some surveillance equipment to catch me with my arm uncovered.”

 

Altaïr nodded briefly but seemed to have moved on to inspect Malik’s wardrobe. He did so with an exaggerated shriek as if he had seen a monster lurking in the closet.

 

“I don’t imagine my clothes being that terrifying.”

 

“No but the person wearing them is! You have even colour coded them! And don’t you have anything else but collared shirts? Now I know how it is possible for you to always wear the same clothes,” Altaïr faked being horrified.

 

“I never see you wearing anything but hoodies or sportswear so you are _not_ the one to talk,” Malik countered but he was actually feeling rather amused by Altaïr’s reaction.

 

“Hoodies are sportswear,” Altaïr said and looked very smug. Malik snorted.

 

“That makes it even worse.”

 

The doorbell interrupted their banter.

 

“It must be Ezio and others.” Altaïr turned to leave the bedroom.

 

Before Malik could react any further Altaïr had let in both Ezio and Arno, followed by Leonardo who looked apologetic. Malik shot Leonardo a questioning look which was returned with an exaggerated shrug.

 

“So where are we going and what we are going to see?” Malik asked while putting on his shoes.

 

The city had several cinemas but he personally didn’t like moving from their own district to the others. The historical city had narrow streets where hipsters on bicycles would run people over and where tourists ogled mindlessly at landmarks.

 

Then there was the district with the parliamentary house and other government buildings which he hated for personal reasons. It was also definitely the most ugliest of all the districts. Everything was build from concrete and glass, and the colour scheme consisted of various greys, whites, and beige. Hipsters run people over there as well.

 

If he could choose they would just walk the few kilometres to the cinema in their own district. They would have to cross a few streets with traffic since it was the only district where cars without special permit were allowed. But there were a lot of green areas to help keep the air clean and only a minimal chance of being run over by a hipster with a bicycle.

 

“I don’t know. Arno and Ezio were supposed to take care of choosing the movie,” Altaïr said and directed his stare at the two who were currently engaged in a conversation about something only a two mindless idiots like they ever could.

 

“I thought Arno was supposed to take care of this.” Ezio pointed at Arno accusingly.

 

“I thought you said you could get us all in for free with your connections,” Arno defended.

 

“Yes, but I can get us in for free to any of the cinemas in the city. I didn’t say anything about choosing the movie.”

 

Malik watched with a bizarre fascination as the conversation headed towards ridiculous argument. He noticed how Altaïr was utterly disinterested in the conversation, fiddling with his phone instead and Leonardo stood behind the two arguing hotheads, looking awkward.

 

“I hear there’s this new action film in the local theatre. Maybe we could go and see that?” Leonardo stepped up between the two, smiling like it was the most normal thing to interrupt two adult men arguing like children.

 

Malik was quick to show his approval of Leonardo’s plan because he didn’t want to venture into the other districts. “Besides we can walk there so if anyone wants to go for a drink afterwards we don’t need to worry about getting his bicycle back from the bar,” Malik suggested even though he had no wish to go for a drink.

 

“I think Desmond is working tonight. We could go and say hi to him. I’m sure he would appreciate us popping by,” Altaïr said and wrapped his phone around his wrist.

 

Malik cursed silently when he saw Ezio’s and Arno’s faces light up at the suggestion. There wasn’t apparently never a good time for them to get drunk, possibly have a fight with each other, and then drag home girls whose names they wouldn’t even remember the next day. Even if Arno supposedly dated this girl called Elise and Ezio supposedly dated Leonardo, their actions spoke otherwise.

 

Somehow he got pulled out of his apartment and out into the world where it was still way too hot to be comfortable. He trailed behind the asshole trio with Leonardo who was obviously wishing he could attach himself to Ezio’s arm but didn’t do so out of loyalty towards Malik. But Malik could see from his slightly strained smile that it was what he wanted.

 

“I hear Desmond is an excellent bartender,” Leonardo attempted at small talk.

 

“You don’t need to try and make me feel better. I don’t mind if you want to cuddle up with Ezio,” Malik said even if he was feeling rather betrayed by his friend.

 

Leonardo hesitated for a while before nodding and then quickening his pace to catch up with the jerk he had chosen as the object of his affections. Malik just felt sour.

 

He felt stupid walking behind everyone else and just a little bit left out. Usually solitude didn’t bother him but it was quite a bit different to be invited somewhere and then be ditched, forcing him to watch while Leonardo joked with the asshole trio like he had always belonged there.

 

He was starting to regret having accepted Altaïr’s invitation but when they reached the first road they were supposed to cross Altaïr fell behind to walk besides him. It was surprisingly comforting.

 

Altaïr didn’t say anything and just kept his hands in his hoodie pockets. Every now and again they gave each other sidelong glances. It was more than enough for Malik to make him feel much happier than he had been before. Altaïr was clearly trying his best to accommodate him in the group.

 

When they started getting closer to the shopping centre where the cinema was they didn’t even need to communicate to know it would be time to put on their fake relationship. They erased the personal space between themselves and their touches lingered.

 

Ezio was sure to attract people even if he had attempted to conceal himself with comically large sunglasses. It was funny how people thought they could somehow hide behind sunglasses, that nobody would recognise them, even if the gossip news begged to differ just from the sheer amount of pictures of celebrities with sunglasses on.

 

The shopping centre was a large complex with possibly thousands of solar panels on top of it to power the cooling system. It had stood there almost hundred years and looked outdated compared to all the other buildings around it.

 

But it was amazing place to visit because it had just about every imaginable shop inside. It even had a store that sold exclusively northern goods which Malik visited whenever he got homesick. He was fairly sure some of the producw there were from his grandparents’ farm where they grew Nordic berries in mass quantities.

 

The cinema was in the basement level so they had to walk through the whole complex. There were a surprisingly lot of people there considering it was Wednesday evening and Ezio indeed started attracting a crowd.

 

Leonardo was clutching Ezio’s arm as if his life depended on it though Malik suspected it had more to do with the fear of Ezio replacing him with a girl. So far the people had been polite enough to just take pictures with their phones and stare.

 

Altaïr snaked his arm around Malik’s waist. Malik gave him a questioning look but Altaïr just smirked in return.

 

Malik returned the gesture and got reminded how amazing body Altaïr had. The hoodie was shapeless enough to hide the figure underneath and Malik cursed himself for being gay and weak against toned men.

 

To distract himself from feeling up Altaïr’s muscles he asked, “Do you think Ezio is actually able to get us all in for free? I mean there’s five of us.”

 

“Probably. He has either had sex with the person manning the desk or even the manager, or he will threaten the management with his family connections.” Altaïr grinned from the apparent delight the idea of Ezio threatening people brought him.

 

“You have the same family connections. Why don’t you ever use them for anything?” he asked and wondered about all those times he had to pay for their meals while on the road.

 

“Ezio doesn’t mind using other people to gain whatever he wants but I want to achieve things through my own hands. I want to look at something and say ‘This is my achievement alone’.” And for that Malik could actually respect Altaïr.

 

It was of course clear that Altaïr wasn’t just a hard worker but it was actually his ego(which was the size of a entire country at least) demanded him to do so. But it did explain why he was so good at sports and also why he was so committed.

 

It was odd how he had never had had discussions like this with Altaïr before and now it just came up on a trip to the cinema. But then again he only rarely interacted with Altaïr outside work. During these past few weeks he had had more conversations with Altaïr than ever before that were unrelated to work at least.

 

They walked down the stairs and the trio in front of them had gone quiet. It was obvious all the people staring at Ezio were starting to get to them and while Ezio probably was used to it Malik was sure Leonardo definitely wasn’t. His friend got out so rarely anyway so he wouldn’t be surprised if just seeing a lot people got on his nerves – Or he was projecting himself on his friend.

 

“You want to update social media before going in?” Malik asked because it was something Altaïr did frequently. The anonymous mass in the Internet was expecting Altaïr to interact with them a lot and Altaïr was more than happy to entertain them. Luckily the media and the masses had accepted that Malik was Altaïr’s partner who rather stayed out of the spotlight. He did get his share of attention anyway.

 

“Yeah. I think it would be relevant to tell the people I’m seeing a movie with my boyfriend.”

 

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, and before going inside the cinema, they stopped in front of a movie poster that was attached to a wall to take a selfie. They weren’t even sure if the poster was for the movie they were going to see – probably not, seeing as how there was a picture of a what looked like a rose garden and a couple of ducks.

 

“So you are telling your fans you went to see ‘Duck Story’ with me?” Malik chuckled as Altaïr typed the message all serious.

 

“Why not? It’s not really the movie that matters but the company,” Altaïr replied with a good humour.

 

“But maybe ‘Duck Story’ is indeed a masterpiece?”

 

Altaïr grinned. “Then all the more reasons to see it in a good company.” And then Altaïr’s grin faded into a smile, leaving Malik wondering if Altaïr had meant he was good company.

 

When they moved inside the cinema Ezio was already negotiating with the person who was manning the desk for the tickets. Leonardo looked extremely anxious as Ezio flirted with the woman behind the desk and Arno was making faces at his phone.

 

Altaïr leaned to whisper, “He has definitely slept with her. Ezio really likes women with features like that and she even has the right sized boobs.”

 

Malik snorted at the comment about boobs. He sadly lacked the appreciation for boobs or other female parts so he replied, “I thought the bigger the better.”

 

“You must be the gayest man ever alive. You know the shape also matters and how they feel to your hands. One could make the same argument about dicks too, I suppose.”

 

Malik might have chuckled a little. But only a little.

 

“Are you two coming?” Arno asked while Ezio and Leonardo were already walking away, discussing something in their own little private bubble.

 

Apparently the movie was just about to start so they went straight into the cinema hall. The lights were dim and everything including the walls were covered in thick carpet which would muffle sounds and prevent echoing.

 

The hall was half empty which was to be expected from a showing so early and in the middle of a week. Nobody had time for movies at this kind of hour, except apparently four Assassins and one engineer.

 

They picked up the virtual reality glasses from the door where an employee helpfully handed them and then went to find their seats. Malik was seated between Altaïr and Leonardo which he couldn’t decide if he liked the arrangement of not.

 

Arno was complaining about being separated from Ezio who was sitting next to Leonardo, looking ridiculous while wearing the glasses even before anything had even started. Altaïr told his friend to shut up and it worked at least for a while.

 

Leonardo leaned over while fiddling with the straps of the glasses, “It’s a historical action movie. I think you should like it.”

 

The assumption that Malik would like the film solely based on the fact that it was set in the past was a weird one.

 

“Is it like a spectacle movie or what?” Malik asked.

 

“I think it’s about government spies or something like that. It should have good chase scenes from what I hear.”

 

Malik raised his eyebrow.

 

“It doesn’t sound like anything you would want to see. It’s not pretentious enough. Why does it interest you?”

 

Leonardo just smiled and shrugged as if he didn’t know.

 

Malik whispered, “If it’s some ridiculous attempt to feign scared and to cling to Ezio I am going to hit you... With my left hand.”

 

Leonardo snorted. “What makes you think that?”

 

But before Malik could reply Ezio abruptly stood up from his seat almost hitting Leonardo in the process as he flailed around with his arms.

 

“Look at me I am a giant man-fly!” Ezio announced and then made stupid buzzing noises which were supposedly very funny if Arno’s reaction was something to go by.

 

Malik looked at Leonardo and asked him quietly, “Why?” Because Ezio was an idiot trash celebrity.

 

“You are a mean-spirited, chronically depressed individual and yet Altaïr fawns over you,” Leonardo answered with his smile never wavering.

 

“What?” Malik managed but couldn’t get no further before the employee at the door told them to put on their glasses and to Ezio to sit down or he would be removed from the cinema.

 

He reluctantly put on his glasses even though he really wanted to reprimand Leonardo for his sudden meanness.

 

The glasses sat slightly uncomfortably on his nose but he got immediately immersed in the test environment that was presented to him to make sure the glasses were working as they should be. He turned his head around to see if the glasses responded as they should and indeed the scenery changed fluently just as it would if he were not wearing anything at all.

 

He could hear some bickering from his left where Altaïr and Arno sat but they got tuned out as soon as the advertisement started. The speakers played the sounds from 360 degrees all around them obnoxiously loudly.

 

He took a good position on the seat because he knew he would be occasionally gripping the thing and didn’t want to fall to the floor. They really should install seatbelts to prevent people from hurting themselves.

 

The movie itself was standard run-of-the-mill action flick set roughly a hundred years before the present. It had people controlling cars which seemed reckless, explosions, and an impossibly stupid plot about a government spy sent to assassinate a dictator in some country in Africa.

 

When the movie ended he was more than happy to get out of the theatre even if it had been fun for the most part. He was still fully aware how mindless and plain stupid the movie was, and how amazingly naïve the whole assassination scheme had been.

 

They were now heading to the bar where Desmond worked for drinks. Ezio was went on and on how amazing the movie had been. He was obviously more enthusiastic about the film than anyone else was.

 

“I mean just did you look at the explosions? I could feel the pressure waves from them hitting me!” Ezio explained and the rest of them just nodded politely.

 

“The music was shit though,” Arno said and Ezio looked hilariously offended that his new favourite film was being criticised.

 

“Of course you would say that. You play violin in some artsy band, my friend,” Ezio replied. Malik did agree with Arno but didn’t say anything.

 

“But even if you didn’t like the music you must appreciate the historical accuracy! I mean did you see how they controlled the cars and everything? It must have been a hassle to get such old cars!”

 

Malik rolled his eyes which was apparently caught by Leonardo who directed his words at Malik, “Malik would probably know if the cars were accurately depicted or not.”

 

Malik felt like everyone’s gaze was now focused on him.

 

“They were just turning the steering wheel but I didn’t see them changing gears or using the pedals.”

 

“Gears? Pedals?” Arno asked as if Malik was speaking in a language he didn’t understand.

 

“My grandparents have old tractors from the time when they still used oil based fuels. There are three different ranges, seven gears, a clutch pedal, an accelerator, and a brake pedal. I can’t imagine the cars from that era being all that different,” he explained and was fairly sure nobody could understand anything of his explanation despite all the nods everyone gave him.

 

“Oh right, I completely forgot you were from some forsaken place where time has stopped permanently to year 2020. I suppose there are perks to that too,” and Malik was sure Arno could have keep on going about his merry explanation of how backwards everything was in the North but Altaïr gave his friend a warning look even before Malik could react himself.

 

It shut the Frenchman up which Malik was grateful for. Apparently Altaïr had taken his words seriously, leaving Malik in an uncomfortable position where he just wasn’t sure how he was supposed to think about his relationship with Altaïr.

 

They crossed a street with relatively busy traffic for the evening. The shadows were already long from the sun hanging low on the sky and most of the day’s heat was gone.

 

Ezio and Leonardo were walking in the front once more, discussing something which Arno contributed every now and again. Altaïr had fallen into step with Malik.

 

“Thanks,” he said even though he was more thick-skinned than to get upset from a few ignorant statements. The point was that Altaïr had stuck to his words and was actually _trying_.

 

Altaïr shrugged and threw his arm over Malik’s shoulders. It was a friendly gesture, leaving room for Malik to either return it or not. With some hesitation he wrapped his arm around Altaïr’s waist.

 

“Your hand is cold,” Altaïr whispered into his ear.

 

“Comes from not having circulation. How do you even feel that through this garish hoodie?”

 

Altaïr laughed at his comeback and Malik couldn’t help but feel the corner of his lips turning slightly upwards as well. He was feeling surprisingly companionable with Altaïr. It was a feeling he wasn’t used to and couldn’t help but wonder if something terrible was going to happen at some point.

 

They reached bar where Desmond worked although it soon was clear to him that it was more of a club really. Loud (and terrible) music blared through the speakers and the dance floor was crowded, or rather the entire place was a dance floor with only few chairs and tables next to the walls.

 

Malik felt immediately out of place as they stepped inside but followed diligently the others to the bar. Ezio was flirting with every woman who even looked at his way and seemed to be enjoying himself.

 

Leonardo clung to Ezio’s arm as if his life depended on it and Malik couldn’t help but feel bad at him. The least Ezio could do was to pretend he was only interested in Leonardo.

 

Arno had disappeared into the dancing crowd almost as soon as they had made it inside. Malik couldn’t even tell where he was in the crowd.

 

A rather obvious smell of sweating people and alcohol hovered in the air. The floor was inexplicably sticky from places and Malik refused to think what the stickiness might be.

 

“Come on. I’m sure Desmond will be pleased to see us,” Altaïr leaned to speak into his ear and then dragged him through a group of people blocking their way to the bar. Altaïr didn’t even glance at the people whose good time together he had interrupted by just simply walking through and Malik couldn’t decide if he should commend Altaïr for being so bold or scold him for being rude. Possibly both.

 

Ezio was leaning on the desk with Leonardo at his side, conversing something with Desmond who was busy mixing drinks. When Desmond spotted them emerging from the crowd he looked visibly surprised and not in a good way.

 

But the most surprising thing Malik noticed was an unmistakable form of Shaun Hastings sitting on a barstool with a pint in front of himself.

 

Malik sit on a stool next to Shaun and was given a very colourful drink which he assumed Ezio had ordered for everyone since Altaïr was given one like it soon afterwards. There was some chick on the other side of Ezio with a phone, trying to take a selfie with Ezio.

 

“Hi, Shaun. What are you doing here?”

 

Shaun looked at him with an extremely bored expression.

 

“I am having a drink. What does it look like?” and he shook his pint at Malik.

 

“This doesn’t seem like your kind of place at all and I thought you didn’t like Desmond either?” Malik asked and took a sip from his drink which tasted like artificial flavours and Vodka.

 

“I’ve been frequenting this place to pick up chicks way before Desmond became the bartender and ruined my experience,” Shaun grumbled and glanced at Desmond who tried to shrink away for some reason.

 

“Have you ever actually managed to pick up any chicks? I can’t imagine a dance club having any girls who would be interested in the thick glasses nerdy type.”

 

“You would be surprised what people do when they realise I’m the lead engineer at Sicarius.”

 

Malik snorted and focused his gaze at his drink to examine it closely. Altaïr stuck a small umbrella in it and grinned.

 

“Desmond!” Shaun shouted, “I need something stronger now that the asshole brigade has arrived!”

 

Malik looked as Desmond scampered to get Shaun that something stronger. It was quite amusing to see him working and Desmond was admittedly quite skilful.

 

There were now even more girls around Ezio and pretty much all of them were taking pictures with or of Ezio. Leonardo had drunk his drink and was waiting to order more.

 

Somebody poked Malik in the shoulder and he turned to face the person. Altaïr gestured him to look to the dance floor.

 

It took Malik a while to process what Altaïr was pointing at but when he realised what he was supposed to look at he cracked into a laughter. Arno had been sandwiched between two very overweight women who were pulling his clothes off. To say that Arno looked uncomfortable was an understatement of the century since he looked like he rather wanted to be anywhere else but there.

 

Altaïr looked at Malik triumphantly.

 

“What?” Malik demanded.

 

Altaïr didn’t cease his ridiculous grin even for a second.

 

“I think it’s the first time I’ve heard you laugh.”

 

“It’s just this stupid drink that’s making me do things I normally wouldn’t. It tastes terrible by the way.” He fiddled with the glass for a while before drinking some more from it.

 

“Ezio has no taste in alcohol.”

 

“I’m not entirely sure he has taste in anything,” and Altaïr snorted at that.

 

Malik took a drink from his glass and grimaced at the flavour.

 

Ezio was now completely enthralled by the women, leaving Leonardo alone and who was now speaking something with Desmond. Possibly ordering more to drink since his glass was again empty.

 

“So what is Ezio’s aspect in this whole thing with Leonardo?” Malik asked from Altaïr who seemed to think the drink was just about as wile as he had thought, judging from the way he knit his eyebrows together before drinking.

 

Altaïr put his glass down on the counter before talking. “I think he just wants a friend, really.”

 

Malik raised his eyebrow. “A friend?” and then sipped on his drink. “Aren’t you and Arno his friends?”

 

“We are friends but not really friends you want to speak about things with. We do stupid things and sometimes punch each other for fun.”

 

“So why is he going through this whole supposed dating thing. He’s straight as they get, right?”

 

Altaïr did some hand gestures at Desmond who poured them some other drink that wasn’t coloured neon green and was hopefully better tasting too.

 

“He’s just shy.”

 

Desmond dropped the drinks in front of them on the counter and eyed them both suspiciously.

 

“Desmond! I need more of this stuff!” Shaun shouted next to Malik and Malik had to hold his tongue from laughing out loud.

 

Malik turned his attention back to Altaïr who was already sampling the drink Desmond had brought.

 

“I can’t believe you just tried to convince me that Ezio is actually shy. There’s nothing shy about accidentally dropping your trousers on the dance floor and then continuing dancing with your butt naked.”

 

Altaïr snickered at Malik’s comment and Malik took the opportunity try the drink. It was sweet but not overly so and obviously had some fruit in it. He definitely preferred this one to the previous one.

 

Altaïr took a while to form his reply after he had stopped laughing, “He doesn’t really know how to make friends. He knows how to get girls into his bed but he’s really clueless as to how to act around people he doesn’t want to sleep with. So he does the only thing he knows best.”

 

“Which is to flirt and seduce people,” Malik continued Altaïr’s sentence while facepalming.

 

“He should just tell Leonardo that he wants to be friends with him. Leonardo honestly thinks he has a chance with Ezio.”

 

Altaïr made faces at his glass. “I kind of figured that much. It won’t work though because as long as I’ve known Ezio he has not shown any interest in men.”

 

“What the Hell, Desmond? You are calling this piss a strong drink?” Shaun shouted abruptly and he was obviously quite drunk at this point.

 

“I need to go and save Arno from his admirers,” Altaïr said and stood up from his seat.

 

Malik turned entirely towards the counter where Desmond was hurrying to make something else for Shaun.

 

When Desmond put down Shaun’s drink he turned his gaze to Malik and frowned. “I can’t believe you told Altaïr about Lucy and me.”

 

Malik shrugged and took a sip from his drink. “What makes you think I told him anything?”

 

“Because he keeps pestering me about it and seems to think that Lucy is some sort of dominatrix that likes to use me as a glorified dildo,” and the way Desmond blushed when he said the word ‘dildo’ was precious.

 

A man sat where Altaïr had sit previously and ordered a beer before Malik could reply anything to Desmond. He was definitely starting to feel the effects of the strong alcohol and his mind didn’t work quite as fast it had previously.

 

It was also why he just sat there looking stupidly at when the man fumbled around with his pint glass and finally basically just dumped everything on Malik’s front. It was probably also the reason why, when he was finally able to understand what happened, he jumped up in surprise end ended up sprawled on the floor.

 

There were hands helping him up from the cold floor. The beer reeked horribly and even in the dim light of the club he knew his white shirt was ruined with a large beer stain.

 

The worst part was of course that he couldn’t even dump the shirt off because it would have exposed his left arm and he didn’t have under shirt either because of the heat. The rest of the night would be terrible.

 

“I can’t believe this is happening to me,” he finally managed to say and made disgusted noises to signify how much he didn’t like the situation.

 

Altaïr was there along with Arno who had lipstick stains on him.

 

“You can borrow my hoodie. I’ve got a t-shirt underneath so I’m fine but you can’t go out like this.” Altaïr said and even before Malik could reply he started dragging him somewhere again.

 

It took him a while to understand that they were heading to the restroom though it should have been the obvious conclusion if they were to strip him off of his shirt. But he dreaded public restrooms because they were usually filthy and especially in places like this they tended to smell of urine on top of everything.

 

And when Altaïr pushed the door open to the restroom it was pretty much just like that. Smelled of urine and puke, walls were more yellow than white, especially from where the urinals were, and every surface had writing on it.

 

At least there wasn’t a queue so he could just walk into a free stall and Altaïr followed him inside. They could fit there only barely.

 

The first thing Malik did was to close the toilet seat because he dreaded to see how the bowl looked from inside. He did so with the tip of his finger because he was sure he would catch some disease from the thing.

 

Altaïr very quickly pulled off his hoodie, revealing a nicely fitting t-shirt underneath. Malik followed in suit and got rid of his ruined garments, handing them to Altaïr because he absolutely refused to put his clothes on any of the surfaces in the toilet.

 

Altaïr’s hoodie was slightly too big for him but then again it was slightly too big for Altaïr as well. But it was infinitely preferred over beer stained clothes.

 

Altaïr handed him his clothes back and they exited the stall. A man using one of the urinals shouted, “Did you have quick fuck there or what?” He was obviously very drunk barely able to stay upright.

 

“It’s none of your business,” Altaïr snapped at the man and Malik latched himself to Altaïr’s arm.

 

“I think I want to go back home,” Malik muttered before they exited the restroom and before the music would be too loud for once more.

 

Altaïr nodded and they left the club.

 


	9. Turning point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me so long to write this chapter and it's not even that long. But it was really difficult to figure out few things to make everything work as it is supposed to. Hopefully the next chapter will be more quickly done.
> 
> I absolutely love every and each one of you who left me feedback. It encourages me to keep on going despite this fic being the most ambitious one I've ever tackled. Whenever I feel like I am about to give up I come to read the comments I've gotten because it makes me feel like I'm not just rambling to myself here. <3
> 
> DarthTofu is love for straightening up my horrible grammar :D
> 
> I hope everyone enjoys this chapter!

The hoodie smelled distinctly of Altaïr and his deodorant. It hung loosely on Malik’s frame and was very comfortable. No wonder Altaïr liked to go around in hoodies.

 

Malik sat on the edge of his bed. He was wearing only the hoodie and his underwear and trying to blink away the last remnants of sleep.

 

He couldn’t recollect what had happened after he had hit that weed place with Altaïr. Mixing weed and alcohol was such a bad idea.

 

Apparently he had made it home and gone to sleep wearing Altaïr’s hoodie. Why had he not taken it off? It bothered him more than was necessary. Altaïr in general bothered him more than necessary lately.

 

He stood up from the bed, frowning at his predicament.

 

Altaïr had been very kind to lend the hoodie. He would have to thank him and return the garment properly washed. It was the least he could do.

 

So he pulled off the shirt, surprisingly reluctant to part with it and set it aside to be washed with other the white clothes. Altaïr seemed to own hundreds of hoodies that looked exactly the same and wouldn’t miss this one.

 

He headed to the shower because, while the hoodie was very nice, he himself was not. He stank of dried beer, old booze, topped off with the distinctive smell of weed. Only thing that could have made it worse would have been the smell of vomit.

 

While showering he made the decision to do some cello practice. After his successful appearance in Düsseldorf he had unexpectedly gained more followers on social media who were interested in his playing and not in his relationship with Altaïr. It was a really nice ego stroke for him and gave him more motivation to practice.

 

It had been something he had achieved himself and nobody could take away it from him. That included the Brotherhood leaders, Altaïr, or whoever there was to undermine his abilities and achievements.

 

He was still smiling to himself as he stepped out of the shower.

 

He was glad that the horrible stink on him had washed down the drain, leaving him pleasantly refreshed. Though now his damp skin felt slightly cool against the air and he had to hurry to get some clothes on.

 

He brewed himself a cup of tea and watched as Cadence tried to stuff as much food as he possibly could into his mouth. From the cat’s demeanour it looked like Cadence was starving but looking at his waistline told a different story.

 

Malik sipped on his tea while going through his sheet music in search of something new to learn. He had not tried anything new for years. It had seemed so futile to bother leaving his comfort zone because he was at a dead end anyway. But now he had motivation for it. He was not going to let that motivation to go to waste.

 

When he finally found something interesting and new the teacup had been empty for minutes already. Only a small stain of tea remained at the bottom of it.

 

But he was still thoroughly motivated when he picked up his cello even if the idea of learning something new made him slightly nervous. He had to remind himself several times that there was nobody else to hear his mistakes except for himself and even if there were others it was not their business.

 

He reapplied the rosin on the bow since it was running quite dry from the last weekend. Playing in the club had been rough for his poor instrument. The terrible heatwave all over the Europe didn’t help either as it tended to turn the rosin into a weird half-melted sticky substance.

 

Cadence hurried to leave the kitchen as soon as Malik started getting comfortable with the cello. The cat didn’t particularly enjoy his playing.

 

He couldn’t be bothered to find his stand for the sheets so he just laid them on his kitchen table and would take a peek at them whenever he needed. He would memorise them very quickly anyway.

 

He warmed up his fingers suitably, tapped impatiently on the body of the cello with his left hand as he did so, and made small noises of exasperation. The only good thing about having an artificial arm was that it was impossible to pull muscles on it and the fingers would continue working perfectly if everything went fine.

 

He humoured the thought of recording his playing for a while before deciding against it. The first time playing something always sounded horrible. There was no way he wanted to share that with the world.

 

So he resigned to just running some scales to make sure the instrument was in tune and to give his hands something to do before he tackled on the new piece.

 

He pulled in a deep breath in an anticipation of stepping into an unknown territory. A part of him was excited and another part of him was anxious. He knew he shouldn’t be such a perfectionist but he couldn’t help it.

 

Then before he could have second thoughts he dived right into it.

 

There were slips, wrong notes, and frustration, combined with excitement when he managed to nail immediately a few particularly difficult parts. He could feel the music vibrating through his own body as he played, making him grin like an idiot.

 

Just as he was getting comfortable he got a message to his phone which vibrated on his wrist. He ignored it and continued playing. There was no way it was anything important. Nobody sent anything important with a message.

 

Then his phone started ringing which was much more difficult to ignore so he set aside the strings and answered. At the same time someone rang the doorbell, making him frown as he was trying to figure out if he should open the door, or speak to the phone.

 

He decided to do both and put the cello carefully away. He answered the phone while making it to the door.

 

He couldn’t make out anything from the person on the other side of the line, but as he opened the door Altaïr was revealed on the other side also talking on the phone. Malik took a look at the phone’s screen as to who exactly had been calling him.

 

Altaïr.

 

“What?” he asked, trying his hardest not to be hostile. It was still difficult to mask his annoyance because he had been interrupted while he was enjoying himself.

 

“You promised to come with me to help me train today,” Altaïr answered and pushed his hands into his hoodie pockets. The hoodie was identical to the one he had borrowed Malik.

 

“I did?” Malik had no recollection of such promise.

 

Altaïr seemed very amused by this for some reason. It made Malik slightly nervous as to what else he might have done yesterday.

 

“Yes. You told me how there are all these faults in my pole vaulting technique and offered to set me straight.”

 

Malik rubbed his face in a futile attempt to recall the last night. It didn’t help. Unsurprisingly.

 

“I haven’t heard that piece before. Are you trying to learn a new one?” Altaïr seemed to be peering over Malik’s shoulder into the apartment for something.

 

“You listen to when I play?” Malik asked because he was completely loss at any intelligent words at that moment.

 

“I think the whole apartment block does. It’s kind of unavoidable.”

 

He was aware that the sounds resonated through the walls but he had never thought that there might be someone actually paying more than passing attention to it. There were after all things that made more horrible noise in there. Like whenever the asshole trio decided to party.

 

“I’m sorry about that.”

 

But because apparently Altaïr had decided to completely change Malik’s view on him recently he said, “Don’t be. I actually like it.”

 

Malik had to take a double take to make sure he was actually talking with Altaïr because Altaïr had not taken any interest in his or anyone’s playing for that matter. In fact he had heard him complain about certain Frenchmen playing their violin.

 

“But you’ve said you don’t like Arno’s playing.”

 

“Arno’s violin playing sounds more like a horny tomcat whining outside someone’s window.” Which made Malik burst into laughter at the mental image.

 

“It’s because he plays a carbon fibre violin and is specialised in folk songs.”

 

Altaïr raised his eyebrow questioningly. “I didn’t know there were differences in that.”

 

“There are differences with everything. You should know this from sports at least. There’s a reason why the equipment we use these days are different from the ones used hundred years ago.”

 

“When you put it like that it makes sense,” Altaïr agreed.

 

“Anyway. Are you sure it’s a good idea to practice your technique so close to the championships? What does your coach say about it?” Malik tried in an attempt to weasel away from Altaïr’s invitation despite apparently having agreed to it previous night. He really wanted to practice playing.

 

Altaïr crossed his arms and grinned widely.

 

“My coach has already agreed to this. I called him this morning.”

 

Malik cringed inwardly. Of course Altaïr had to have thought about everything because apparently it was his life duty to get on his nerves.

 

“I’m not sure if I’m actually qualified to instruct you in this,” Malik attempted to dissuade Altaïr from the whole thing.

 

“You are a pole vaulter.” Altaïr pointed at Malik’s chest and made an expression of disbelief.

 

“I was a pole vaulter,” Malik replied bitterly.

 

“In that you are wrong.” Altaïr grinned smugly and walked past Malik into Malik’s apartment.

 

Before Malik could react Altaïr had knelt down to pet Cadence who was purring with enthusiasm. The cat had apparently really taken a liking to Altaïr after their weekend spent together.

 

Malik watched at Altaïr cooing at the cat while contemplating what to do.

 

After a while he sighed in defeat. “Fine. I’ll gather my stuff.”

 

Altaïr nodded in response and resumed petting the cat immediately.

 

Malik very reluctantly put his cello back into its case and gave a longing gaze at the notes still haphazardly laid on his kitchen table. He would have to get back to practising in the evening.

 

He picked up the equipment he needed because he could just as well get his feet moving while he was at it. While he was doing so he tried to understand what it was exactly that compelled him to move his ass for Altaïr’s sake.

 

He realised that if Altaïr had suggested the same thing two weeks ago he would have thought it as some sort of cruel joke and an attempt to humiliate him. That train of thought froze Malik mid motion while throwing his bag over his shoulder.

 

Then he remembered what Rauf had said to him.

 

He shook his head in an attempt to get rid of the thoughts.

 

He found Altaïr sitting on the floor playing with Cadence. Altaïr seemed to be completely immersed in the activity and either didn’t notice Malik staring at him or chose to ignore him.

 

What surprised Malik was how for once Altaïr didn’t have that annoyingly arrogant smirk plastered on his face. He looked like any other human being and not like a cartoon character.

 

Then the magic was dispelled when Altaïr seemed to snap back into the present and the smirk was firmly back in place.

 

“Ready?” Altaïr stood up from the floor. Cadence attempted to grip Altaïr’s trousers but Altaïr gently pushed the cat away.

 

Malik let out a breath and collected himself. “Ready. Let’s go so we can get this over with.”

 

Altaïr grinned at him like he was a three year old allowed to run amok in a sweets store. It got on Malik’s nerves instantly.

 

“That grin will be wiped off as soon as you figure out how inept you actually are at pole vaulting.”

 

Malik opened the front door and made sure Cadence wouldn’t follow them outside to the floor. He gently eased the door shut not wanting it to echo and alert everyone in the block to his activities.

 

Altaïr picked up a bag from next to the door. Apparently he had been so confident in his skills of persuasion that he had already packed everything up.

 

Malik rolled his eyes.

 

“You were really counting on me actually agreeing with you,” Malik said while they descended down the stairs.

 

Altaïr shrugged his shoulders in an exaggerated manner.

 

“You promised it yesterday.”

 

“I was drunk and high.”

 

Altaïr didn’t respond after that though he didn’t seem apologetic either.

 

Once they reached the ground level Malik pushed the door open and stepped outside Altaïr following right behind him. He was greeted by a wall of heavy air and a cacophony of noise that made him stop on his tracks.

 

Had it always been so loud outside? He could hear the whizzes and tyre noises of cars going by at the nearby road. There were birds and people adding their own sounds to the mix, and wind hitting the sides of buildings.

 

He was brought back into the present by Altaïr lacing their fingers together and then pulling at him slightly to get him moving.

 

“It might rain soon,” Altaïr commented while gazing at the sky. Sure enough there were clouds there which had been absent for weeks now.

 

“I sure hope so. It’s a small wonder I haven’t gotten a heatstroke.”

 

They went silent after the exchange and walked into the park.

 

Their shoulders bumped against each other as they dodged a jogger coming towards them on the same path. The silence started bothering Malik.

 

“Why did you ever choose to compete in decathlon?”

 

Altaïr looked at him as if the answer was obvious.

 

“As a kid I wanted to be best at every track sport and couldn’t just settle down with one. So I didn’t and became awesome at everything.”

 

Malik rolled his eyes. The answer was exactly something Altaïr might have said.

 

But then Altaïr continued, “That’s my reason, but what is yours? Also moreover, why have you stopped?”

 

The answer for Malik was much more difficult than it was for Altaïr. They had already glanced at the reason why he quit or rather was unable to vault any more but he didn’t have any definite answer.

 

“I used to do gymnastics but it was a real hassle for my grandparents to support me with it because the training places were so far away from where we lived so I switched to pole vaulting for convenience.”

 

Altaïr looked at him funnily.

 

“Did your grandparents really tell you they thought it was inconvenient to take you far away from home for practice? Because if they did it was a really dick move.”

 

Malik bit his lip before answering, “No they didn’t but it doesn’t take a genius to realise something like that.”

 

Altaïr tightened his hold on Malik’s hand for a while.

 

“You assume too much of people and think you know better than they do,” Altaïr replied as if he was commenting on weather.

 

Malik snapped his head towards Altaïr and scowled. Altaïr looked like he didn’t care in the slightest.

 

He would have given Altaïr a scathing rebuttal if it wasn’t for the fact that they reached Sicarius’ buildings. It wouldn’t do to appear to be arguing with Altaïr in there because somebody might use it against him. Altaïr had such an unfair advantage over him.

 

As they dropped of their phones Malik noticed how the receptionist was someone completely new he had never seen before.

 

The old one had been a woman in her thirties with a medium brown hair and roundish features. The new man manning the desk on the other hand was thickly bearded and looked like he would rather be anywhere else but there.

 

Malik didn’t pay more attention to the guy after handing his phone over and receiving barely audibly mumble ‘thanks’ as a reply. The usual receptionist was probably on a sick leave and they had to replace her with the first person they could.

 

Once they reached the practice area Malik noticed they weren’t alone which wasn’t all that uncommon when taking into account the time of the day they were there. Only the early mornings were times when the track was empty.

 

Desmond was jogging around the track. He obviously noticed the two of them coming into the track but didn’t stop his exercise.

 

“We should join Desmond,” Altaïr said as soon as they were done changing into more appropriate clothes. Altaïr was grinning in the way that told Malik that he was about to torment Desmond endlessly.

 

But they needed to warm up so he sighed and agreed.

 

Desmond looked extremely sour when they joined him. Malik stayed slightly behind because he wanted nothing to do with Altaïr’s dickery.

 

“My favourite cousin!” Altaïr slapped Desmond on the back, making Desmond stumble and almost fall.

 

When Desmond had resumed his balance and continued to jog he replied “Go away,” between breaths.

 

Altaïr ignored Desmond’s attempts to get rid off him which wasn’t surprising. In fact it might have even made Altaïr more insistent when he noticed that he got a reaction out of Desmond that easily.

 

“Did Lucy tie you up again? Is that why you are so grouchy?”

 

“What? No!” Desmond snapped and attempted to quicken his pace to get away from Altaïr but Altaïr of course quickly caught up.

 

“Why do you need to torment me?” Desmond whined.

 

“I am not tormenting you but simply asking you questions. I am very concerned for my cousin,” though Altaïr’s tone spoke otherwise.

 

Desmond let out a frustrated noise. “Why do I even put up with you?”

 

It was at that point Malik decided he couldn’t just stay back and look at Altaïr being a complete asshole to Desmond. So he ran up to them, feeling his muscles warmed up quite a bit and touched Altaïr on the shoulder.

 

“We need to do a few sprints before we can get to the vaulting practice. Isn’t that what we came here for?” he asked pointedly.

 

And it was funny how easily he was apparently able to get Altaïr’s full attention because Altaïr dropped Desmond immediately when Malik spoke to him. Apparently the prospect of turning himself even better athlete was enough to motivate Altaïr to anything.

 

“Yeah,” Altaïr replied and Malik nodded in return.

 

Without exchanging further words they sped up from their leisurely jog into all out sprint, leaving (the probably relieved) Desmond behind.

 

Malik could feel his heart rate climbing up in response to his feet making contact with the track in an ever quickening pace. The flood of adrenaline surged through his body, making him feel light and giving him an edge that made him want to compete against Altaïr.

 

But he managed to hold himself enough to just run alongside Altaïr who stared right in front of himself with determination. He knew he shouldn’t challenge Altaïr to anything so near the championships.

 

Then they slowed down into a jog to let their heart rates settle down and finally after a while to a walking pace.

 

“So what do you usually do before you start vaulting?” Malik asked as they were walking to the pole vaulting area.

 

“I do some stretches and then get to it,” Altaïr replied and shrugged his shoulders.

 

“Good. Then let’s get to it.”

 

They both sat down on the ground and started stretching.

 

Desmond was still jogging on the track.

 

It was soon clear that Malik was a lot more flexible than Altaïr was and he decided to let Altaïr know about it too. “What is that supposed to be?” he said while easily touching the ground with his forehead.

 

“Shut up! It’s not normal for a man to be able to perform fellatio on himself.” Altaïr stared Malik in either awe or horror. It was hard to say which one from the expression he was wearing.

 

Malik felt slightly evil when he saw that Altaïr was struggling to keep up with his stretches and he enjoyed how for once he was the one with all the skill.

 

“You know, there are other uses for being flexible.”

 

Altaïr was red in the face when he asked “Like what?”

 

“Like being able to vault over higher bars.” It wasn’t obviously the answer Altaïr had been expecting from the way he kept going through all kinds of emotions before settling on confused.

 

Malik observed Altaïr trying his hardest to achieve the same kind of flexibility he had because of course Altaïr just refused to be second to someone else. Even if the said activity was stretches.

 

As fun as it would have been to watch Altaïr struggle with the stretches Malik had to intervene. “You shouldn’t try to force yourself or you will end up pulling a muscle. I’m flexible because I used to do gymnastics and while it would definitely benefit you to be more elastic you can’t force it all at once. You need to work on it slowly.”

 

Altaïr seemed to pout for a while but whether it was just for show or if Altaïr was actually disappointed was unclear.

 

Malik got on his feet and Altaïr followed behind.

 

They walked to the trolley with all the poles in it and Malik observed as Altaïr chose one of them. Picking the right kind of pole was depended largely on the athletes tastes. Some people liked stiffer poles and some preferred more bendy ones.

 

“Are you going to vault?” Altaïr asked after picking up quite a stiff pole and waving it in front of himself.

 

Malik took a glance over his shoulder at Desmond who was still doing laps around the track and then looked back at Altaïr. He didn’t feel comfortable even trying while there were others around. He might have tried while Altaïr was there because Altaïr had already witnessed his failed attempts before.

 

“No. I don’t think I will.”

 

Malik braced himself against whatever Altaïr would inevitably say because Altaïr never had anything nice to say about what he deemed to be cowardice.

 

But instead Altaïr just nodded and walked towards the pole vaulting pit, leaving Malik looking after him with his mouth hanging wide open. Had Altaïr truly just walked away from a ten point opportunity to mock him?

 

Altaïr was already fitting his pole against the box at the end of the runway when Malik finally recovered from his shock. He walked up to Altaïr who was leaning on the pole, feeling it up as he did so.

 

“How many strides do you use?” Malik asked while starting to lower the bar to a better starting height.

 

“Twenty two. It takes me a while to get into speed so I need the extra space.” Altaïr ran his fingers through his short hair while he looked intently on Malik working on the bar. “Why don’t you lower the bar to a height that you could vault over it without fear?”

 

Malik tightened up the mechanism that held the bar up. It was an ancient thing and didn’t really fit the criteria given to competitive equipment but was good enough for practising.

 

He looked up at the bar that wasn’t all that high in the air and knew he wouldn’t be able to vault over it.

 

“Because it would mean lowering the standards I’ve set for myself.”

 

Altaïr seemed rather displeased by his answer but started counting his strides anyway while Malik trailed behind with his arms crossed. He didn’t like it when Altaïr wanted to start prying into him. And Altaïr had been trying to pry into him a lot lately for whatever reason.

 

Altaïr stopped after counting the twenty two strides he needed and settled the pole over his shoulder.

 

“If you lowered the bar enough that you could get over it, it would be easier to work yourself back from there bit by bit. You are setting yourself up for a way too big a task.”

 

Malik scowled and tried to show his contempt towards Altaïr. “Did you figure this out by yourself, Master Yoda?”

 

Altaïr flicked him a playful grin before answering “Nope. I asked my coach what he would do to an athlete that had lost all of his faith.”

 

Malik wasn’t completely sure what he should think about the implications but there was something about Altaïr actually asking for help for another person which he couldn’t quite put his finger on. It left him confused. It was as if Altaïr had taken it as his mission of late to get him as confused as possible and questioning his own motivations.

 

“So are we going to do this thing?” Altaïr asked and raised up the pole which brought Malik back to the present task.

 

He stepped behind Altaïr and put his hands on his shoulders and guided him to relax his shoulders.

 

“Your hand is cold. It sends shivers down my spine.”

 

“You shouldn’t be so stiff from here or you will end up losing some of that kinetic energy you’ve accumulated during your sprint,” Malik said and ignored Altaïr’s words.

 

When he was pleased as to how Altaïr was holding himself he stepped away.

 

“Right.” Altaïr was full of determination and was obviously taking Malik’s words seriously.

 

Malik felt pleased about himself. “You need to be flexible but firm so that you can transfer most of the energy into the pole as you hit the box.” And he walked around Altaïr who was intently staring right in front of himself.

 

Then he stepped back a bit to get a better overall picture.

 

“Go.”

 

Without hesitation Altaïr dashed from his place towards the pit and Malik scrutinised his every step on the way intently for any mistakes.

 

The pole hit the box, launched Altaïr to the air, and over the bar in seconds.

 

While Altaïr was still getting up from the cushions Malik walked over to him and picked up the pole. “If you were more flexible you wouldn’t have to rely so much on brute force as you vault and could have more options even in the case that not everything goes perfectly in the take-off.”

 

Altaïr was sitting at the edge of the pit and listening intently on his explanation, nodding every now and again in response.

 

“So you are saying my turn is stiff?” Altaïr asked and got up on his feet, grabbing the pole from Malik.

 

Malik crossed his arms and started walking back to the end of the runway. “Yes. Unfortunately it’s not something that can be fixed in a matter of few weeks. But I think you definitely should keep it in mind for future reference. For now I would put the most emphasis on working on your approach so that your sprinting speed doesn’t go to waste.”

 

Altaïr seemed to be contemplating something as he ran a hand through his hair while holding the pole with the other. It genuinely seemed to bug Altaïr that there were flaws in his technique.

 

Malik sighed. “Look, you are probably still going to win even if you are not perfect in this one. Decathlon is all about being good in all ten events and nobody expects a decathlonist to be master in all of them because it’s simply impossible.”

 

Altaïr turned to look at him and smiled. “Thank you.”

 

Malik found himself confused but tried to cover for it with sarcasm “Did this revelation rob you of your ability to move?”

 

Altaïr grabbed the pole and raised it to his eye level. “No.” And Malik could have sworn there was playfulness in the tone. Except that he was talking to Altaïr and Altaïr’s only emotions were laughing at other’s misfortunes or just simply being pure evil.

 

“You are tensing up your shoulders again,” Malik instructed and gestured towards Altaïr with his hands.

 

“I forgot how I was supposed to keep them.”

 

Malik stepped again behind Altaïr and guided with his hands Altaïr’s upped body to the right position. There was an urge in him to feel up more of Altaïr because he was close enough to smell him and could feel his body warmth clearly, and not just with his right hand.

 

Altaïr smelled just the same as his hoodie had smelled in the morning.

 

“There.” He removed his hands. “Get to it.”

 

Altaïr nodded and dashed off again.

 

“You lowered the pole too early!” Malik shouted as soon as Altaïr was climbing back to his feet from the pit. “You will waste precious kinetic energy by doing so!”

 

“But I made it over the bar,” Altaïr said while looking rather confused.

 

“Yes you did but when I increase the height you won’t.”

 

Altaïr seemed to accept Malik’s explanation and just picked up the pole before marching back to the end of the runway.

 

To prove his point Malik walked over to the pit to put more height into the bar. As he did so he commented, “I guarantee that if you drop the pole into the box the way you did now you will end up taking the bar down. So keep it up a bit longer.”

 

He watched Altaïr vault again and again while correcting the mistakes Altaïr did. He knew the subject like the back of his hands and eventually realised that he actually enjoyed helping Altaïr to better himself.

 

Surprisingly enough Altaïr was very receptive to feedback, though Malik knew that nobody became as good as Altaïr without being able to receive criticism and then learn from it. But still he had somehow expected the whole thing to turn into a shouting match between them.

 

At some point he realised he was joined up by Desmond who was sweating profusely and looked extremely suspicious at what was going on. Desmond looked like he wanted to say something but stayed quiet and just watched as Malik kept drilling Altaïr.

 

It was after quite some time that Desmond actually spoke up. “How did you manage to make him work with you?”

 

Malik was feeling quite a good about himself and flashed a smirk at Desmond. “Skills.”

 

Desmond looked as if Malik had grown a second head. “But even Ezio or Arno can’t make him do anything they ask of him. Surely you must have somehow bribed or threatened him?”

 

Malik snorted and crossed his arms. “I apparently had criticised his technique last night while drunk and high. This morning he showed up at my door to demand me to instruct him.”

 

Desmond didn’t respond anything but eyed Malik with suspicion. If Malik were in Desmond’s position he would have probably been extremely sceptical of the situation as well.

 

“I’ll be going now. Have fun with my cousin.” Desmond turned around and waved a goodbye.

 

Malik nodded briefly at Desmond before turning his full attention back to Altaïr who was just about to do the take off.

 

Altaïr cleared the bar and jumped right back on his feet full of enthusiasm.

 

Malik put hands on his hips and cocked his head with confidence. “I think that’s enough for now. There’s still plenty to work but it’s not too bad.”

 

“How much did I clear?” Altaïr asked while picking up his pole.

 

Malik shrugged. “Why don’t you check for yourself.”

 

Altaïr went to look at the measurement scale at the side of the pit which showed very accurately how high the bar actually was. He dropped his pole on the ground as soon as he had had a quick look at the numbers.

 

Malik tapped his foot on the ground a few times with impatience as Altaïr quickly went very quiet and still. The pole lay on the floor forgotten.

 

Malik was just about to ask if Altaïr was having a stroke or something equally mean when Altaïr suddenly spun around looking _extremely_ smug. Even for Altaïr it was way too smug.

 

“What?”

 

“Maybe you do know what you are talking about after all,” Altaïr said while making his way towards Malik.

 

It put Malik on the defence immediately though he didn’t know what he was supposed to defend himself from. Altaïr had in his weird backhanded way just complimented him but he didn’t quite trust any positive comments from Altaïr. What a weird paradox to be in.

 

“Of course I know what I’m talking about. I would have probably become a professional if this had not happened,” he waved his left arm to insinuate his point.

 

Altaïr stopped right in front of him effectively invading his personal space. Malik eyed Altaïr with suspicion as if the man might pounce on him any second.

 

Then out of the blue Altaïr extended his hand, leaving Malik staring at the appendix with confusion. While he knew Altaïr wanted to shake hands with him, he didn’t know why?

 

“I made a new personal record,” Altaïr said and smiled.

 

Malik squeezed his hand shut while his mind contemplated what to do. He felt like there was more at stake here than just accepting Altaïr’s compliments and if he extended his hand there would be no turning back from whatever awaited him.

 

The silence stretched uncomfortably over them but Altaïr didn’t waver.

 

Malik bit his lip, relaxed his fingers, and threw his arm against Altaïr’s which was promptly caught and shaken.

 

He looked Altaïr in the eye for confirmation of Altaïr being serious and found no trace of mockery there but absolute confidence about whatever it was that had just happened.

 


End file.
